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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23585656">no time to die</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/abeyance/pseuds/abeyance'>abeyance</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>1930s, Alot of Death, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - 1930s, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, But Don't Worry We're Going To Have Fun I Promise, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Injury, Jonerys Remix 2020, Minor Character Death, Murder Mystery, Murder-Suicide, Mystery, Smut, Suicide Attempt, based on and then there were none, please read the tags, so yes much murder</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 22:48:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>23,510</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23585656</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/abeyance/pseuds/abeyance</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Daenerys Targaryen is sent to an island estate under hire by a mysterious Mrs. Raven along with nine other people, including an intriguing, dark haired traveler. When guests start to die in unexpected ways, the remaining slowly start to realize not only the lack of coincidence, but who must be among them: the killer.</p><p>Based on Agatha Christie's Murder Mystery, <i>And Then There Were None<i>.</i></i></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>151</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>140</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Jonerys Remix 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. faces from the past return</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>we are in for a RIDE. i had so much fun writing this, and i hope you all have just as much reading it!</p><p>some disclaimers before we get started. <b>please read in case you are sensitive to them.</b></p><p>-This fic is a remix based on And Then There Were None, a multi-murder mystery with the lack of a happy ending. All though I <b>have</b> alternated that for Jon and Dany, I cannot assure that to many of the other characters present in this.</p><p> - As said above, this is a multi-murder mystery. It will also feature/reference acts of abuse towards children and women, violence, overdose, as well as suicidal idealization.<br/> <br/>-I have made all of these as vague as possible for the comfort of readers. I will also put specific disclaimers at the beginning of the chapters, and in some cases, a link to a censored version of it.</p><p>Thats all for right now - i will put reminders at the beginning of each chapter!</p><p>One more thing - Jon and Dany reflect on the characters of Philip Lombard and Vera Claythorne from the original work. This rendition is a mix of the Original 1939 book, the 1945 movie adaption(watch it colorized <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4nV1dIp-St4"> here!</a>), the BBC 2015 series, and of course my own personal twist:) i recommend all medias!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>                                                            </p><p>On a day not that late in November, eight people made their way to Casterly Island by varied invitation. </p><p>Although there were eight who received the invitation from an unfamiliar sender by the names of Mr. Raven, twelve would be staying on the island for the week. The four extensives were the housekeepers and cooks, Sir Samwell and Lady Gilly, who went by their marritabled last name of Tarly. Then, of course, was Mr and Mrs Raven themselves.</p><p>Not one invitee recalled a Mr Raven in their acquaintance, but the letter gave each a reminder of their knowing each other. Along with a reason for their invite. Some were for jobs, and some on the other hand, were simply because Mr Raven was an old friend that wanted to meet up after years of distance.</p><p>Lady Daenerys sat in a third-class carriage, shared with several other passengers going to the same island. She sat closest to the window; she always loved to see the newest parts of the world in her eyes, and this coast of Kingslanding was no exception. It was one of the other reasons that she accepted the invitation. Along with the idea of sitting in the expanded afterglow of her former state of betrothal.</p><p>That very state did not allow her to see as much as the world as she would have liked. Which is why she felt such a strong spark of jealousy when her eyes strayed to the man across from her. Along with his luggage patched with pins and brands from around the world, his demeanor gave her a sense of a man who looked like he had seen it with a traveler’s eyes.</p><p> It was the way he carried himself; the way that his clothes sat different on him, even though he wore the same set that every gentleman in Kingslanding did. How his hair, although greased back, was longer and held a natural curl. How his eyes held crinkles at the corners due to straining against various suns.</p><p>The man’s name was Jon; though, Lady Daenerys did not know that. Nor did he know her name. But as she was right in the fact that he was a traveler, with his father always getting him into the habit of traveling since the years as a boy, he was right upon the assumption that she was a beautiful, fully self-capable woman.</p><p>As with his stature holding his own identity well, her own held the same. The face of hers was one she could easily paint as dainty, held purpose and leadership, along with femininity. The picture was unique and eye catching; the trap in which his eyes indeed fell into. At least as she gazed through the carriage’s window, and not during the times she visually assessed him as well, which were the moments he pretended he didn't notice.</p><p>The train met its destination. Next was a taxi to the boats, in which the passengers waited.</p><p>Sir Jon placed one of Lady Daenerys’s two luggage bags beside her as they did. He had his own, too, which she used as an argument.</p><p>“Thank you, but I am quite capable of holding them on my own, as I did upon boarding,” she stated politely, watching him pick them both up.</p><p>“Don’t assume me to look down on your ability,” Sir Jon assured, “But my own nature cannot see a woman struggle when I have a free hand.”</p><p>Lady Daenerys gave in; it was something about the gray of his eyes adhering to a softness that should be authoritative. She allowed him to carry one of her bags, seeing that he still had to carry his own, to the curb, where they both found each other not moving from.</p><p>“I hope you don’t plan to take my cab once I call one down, sir,” Lady Daenerys mentioned, adjusting her gloves. Sir Jon looked at her.</p><p>“I would say I wouldn't dream of it, but if we are going anywhere near the same place, I wouldn't mind paying my course of your toll fee.”</p><p>This made her smirk, giving him glinting eyes. </p><p>“What a teasing notion.”</p><p>“This city is a busy place.”</p><p>That it was: just at that moment, a stark orange auto-mobile sped along their curve. Inside was the young Joffrey; a boy no less a child, living his early adult years through his parents’ expenses. Such expenses were taking him to the island, as well, under the impression of an extensive sports-scholarship dinner.</p><p>Lady Daenerys peeled her eyes away from where they both looked in the trail of the car. “For such a gentleman you have been so far, I will take you up on it. But only if you tell me <em> your </em> destination.”</p><p>“Casterly  Island,” Sir Jon nodded. Lady Daenerys quirked her eyebrow. “By invitation.”</p><p>“What luck. It seems like the taxi will only need to make one stop.”</p><p>She bit back her small smile at his look of boyish disbelievement. “Yes, milady. What luck.”</p><p>She faced him. “Better to get acquainted now and go in a little more prepared. I am Daenerys.”</p><p>Lady Daenerys held out her hand to him, prompting him to kiss it in greeting, as many men did  these days. Instead, Sir Jon enclosed her hand in both of his, ducking his chin to look at her through his lashes. </p><p>“Lady Daenerys. Jon.”</p><p>Lady Daenerys fazed at his reservedness, but quickly shook it away. “You seem to be accustomed with introductions.”</p><p>“Why, yes. I have made a lot of them.”</p><p>A pang of jealously washed over Lady Daenerys as the taxi reached them. They both climbed inside, along with two other nameless occupants. They all were headed to the same dock; the one that held a water taxi that only transported to Casterly Rock.</p><p>The car was filled with a comfortable silence, until a man in the back broke out into introductory terms when it was clear they all had the same destination. That man's name was Sir Barristan, a fellow that proved to be friendly and even a bit humorous, if Sir Jon read Lady Daenerys’s lips correctly. The other man went by Sir Baelish; he was about the exact opposite. Silent, unless for curt, necessary answers.</p><p>It was an odd sense of meeting as they approached the docks. The transport boat was already semi loaded, with those who arrived before. Parked to the left was a familiar orange car -  the same car, Lady Daenerys realized, that sped down the road and around the corner back at the station. It's owner was undeniable between the color and speed back at that station -a young blond man, lounging smugly against the boat seat. His bright eyes shone with judgement as the group loaded onto the boat alongside him.</p><p><em> What a character this Mr. Raven must be, to know such a variety of people himself </em>, Lady Daenerys thought as she watched others arrive. When the boat took off, she and the seven others looked on to the waters. They were surely becoming icy as mid November grew closer and more fond of the winter season.</p><p>Again, the ride was silent. There was really no reason to talk, anyway -  inside the resort would be a better setting than this. Without the wind and water and boat motor in everyone's ears.</p><p>Although, Lady Daenerys did make a mental note to introduce herself to the stern old woman across from her. She did, making quick work to assist her off of the boat as they arrived at the island -  well, enough to earn an introductory, at least, until she noticed Lady Olenna’s eyes hard on Sir Jon, being as young and capable of a gentleman as he was in truth, who took over as they walked up to the beach in leverage and baggage.</p><p>As the group approached the house, it was achingly clear that it was more so a castle. Something that was more common than rare in these parts, sure, but undeniable comfortability and smooth stone-brick auras still gave some a thrill. </p><p> Upon entry they were met by a certain Sir and Lady Tarley. They were hired to be the caretakers of their stay and handed each of the guests the keys to designated rooms.</p><p>It was odd that the hosts were not the ones to greet them -  something that Sir Samwell addressed with an echo of polite agreement amongst the guests. But never mind that - today was nothing more than settlement, after all.</p><p>“No means to make yourselves any less at home, though,” Sir Samwell beamed. “You each can find your designated room keys on the tea table just off the hall. We will roll out some refreshments in preparation for dinner, scheduled at six this evening. You all have had quite long and tiresome journeys to this lovely abode.”</p><p>Lovely it was indeed. For the few weeks impending this stay, Lady Daenerys caught herself fantasizing the delicate invitation’s destination to match - perhaps a summer house on the side of a beach with many windows and flowers. This house was a surprise following that vision - instead, they were met with a modern manse that sat secluded on top of a cliffed beach. It made for a well rounded sight of the ocean around them. </p><p>There was a murmur of greetings around her as Daenerys followed the directions to the keys and her room. The young man who owned the orange car was by the name of Joffrey; and from his thought on not meeting the host and the supposedly out-dated rug he commented on, it was quite clear what sort of class he came from. At one point, he made such a remark that she turned to look at him; and instead, caught eyes with Sir Jon beyond his shoulder, who gave her a silly face in the response.</p><p>Her cheeks still pinched from smiling as her bedroom door clicked behind her. The room before her was nice; simple in the fact that it only held a bed, dresser, and a bedside table that also took part of a writing desk. It was cozy, nonetheless. She shed herself of her red overcoat and hung it on the lone hook attached to an empty wall. Directly underneath it was a chair that paired with the writing table across the room - she set her two suitcases there, and then went to go closely survey the room.</p><p>There wasn't much else to it. Just that furniture and a jack-and-jill bathing room. With a knock, she learned she shared it with Lady Olenna, which was a relief of a chance when looking at the majority of male guests. There was a large window that looked out to the ocean, giving the slightest view of the beach attached. Decorations were limited as well - which made sense, seeing how modern this build was, but Lady Daenerys couldn’t help but think that this looked less like a guest room and more like a boarding house.</p><p>In her observation of home-warmth was when she came across the picture hanging over the headboard of the bed. Well, not a <em> picture </em>, so to say, but more so an ill-colored, sun-faded embroidery on a large canvas. There was no picture, but rather, plainly words. And with a closer look, a poem. Lady Daenerys squinted.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Ten little warrior boys went out to dine; One choked his little self and then there were Nine. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Nine little warrior boys sat up very late; One overslept himself and then there were Eight. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Eight little warrior boys traveling in Devon; One said he'd stay there and then there were Seven. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Seven little warrior boys chopping up sticks; One chopped himself in halves and then there were Six. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Six little warrior boys playing with a hive; A bumblebee stung one and then there were Five. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Five little warrior boys going in for law; One got into chancery and then there were Four. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Four little warrior boys going out to sea; A red herring swallowed one and then there were Three. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Three little warrior boys walking in the Zoo; A big bear hugged one and then there were Two. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Two little warrior boys sitting in the sun; One got frizzled up and then there was One. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> One little warrior boy left all alone; He went and hanged himself </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And then there were None. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Her brows pinched with slight confusion.  From the back of her mind, a light melody surfaced, ringing a bell of the fact that the poem was a children’s lullaby. <em> Quite morbid, is it not? </em></p><p>Sure, many lullabies turn so as one grows up enough to know the meanings of the words. But there was something about this one that made her heart flutter down and her underarms flame.</p><p><em> I usually unpack on the second day, anyway, </em> Lady Daenerys thought. With that, she unhooked her coat and went to go walk around the estate.</p><p>To the right of the main entrance of the house was a line of flower beds. Gravel paths, flowers..it was wonderfully exquisite. </p><p>Walking among them, a bit ahead of her, was an older man with whiting hair who moved at a somber pace. Lady Daenerys recalled him as Sir Barristan or rather <em> General </em> Barristan. He had stayed quite silent so far, appreciating his surrounding with nods of the head and acknowledging looks. Lady Daenerys quickened her pace to catch up with him as he leaned over to smell a particular flower.</p><p>“General Barristan, is it?”</p><p>The man looked at her and smiled. “Yes, my dear. You are Lady Daenerys if I remember correctly.”</p><p>“I applaud you on knowing the pronunciation. Are you interested in landscaping, General?”</p><p>“Of a sort, yes.” he looked down at a specific daisy, twirling it between his fingers. “My wife was enthralled in our garden. I can't seem to pull away when I see one now, ever since our’s has lost its keeper.”</p><p>“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. I find flowers to be quite magnetic, too.” </p><p>They walked a bit down the path. It had a clear view of the windows, in which she looked over. A rose vine crawled its way up one of the windows - she went over and smelled one, and then picked the flower for herself.</p><p>“A curious thing, aren’t you.” </p><p>She grinned at him over her shoulder. “I suppose that's a well chosen adjective. I am not exactly a guest, you see - I was hired to be Mrs. Raven’s new secretary. Seeing as she and her husband have yet to arrive I decided to take the time to explore the island.”</p><p>“Brilliant secretary when it comes to managing time, then, too.”</p><p>“That's reassuring, thank you.”</p><p>Her eyes followed up the vines, to the window above. It held a familiar face looking back - Sir Jon, watching with a casual gaze. He did not seem at all startled for being caught, which made her think that they simply walked into his line of sight. She smiled up at him, tapping the rose on her shoulder, before continuing past his room. He nodded kindly.</p>
<hr/><p>She shed her jacket once again when it came time for dinner. The hosts still had yet to show up - but with the impending rain that seemed to overcast, no one thought much of it. Lady Daenerys caught herself reading the poem once more before following the scent of seasoned meat into the dining hall. She stuck the flower from the garden in her pinned hair, seeing that it had already started to wilt and she did not want to annoy the cooks for water. Might as well make use of it.</p><p> The poem still loomed her thoughts unpleasantly.</p><p>She was stopped in the doorway.</p><p>“Milady,” the man said; “I don’t think we have yet introduced. I am Sir Jorah, and I completely believe knowing all patrons before a dinner is a highly intelligent idea.”</p><p>“I don't know your story, Sir Jorah, but I am hardly a patron in this house.”</p><p>She slipped her hand out of his greeting grasp and seated herself next to Sir Jon, who sat next to the only empty seat in the room besides the heads. It worked out, since Mrs. Raven would sit to her right once she arrived, but she couldn't help but ask her seat neighbor;</p><p>“Tell me,” she murmured. “Is there any reason the empty seat is next to yours? Or is it just luck?”</p><p>“Luck, I would say. In more ways than one.”</p><p>She kept her eyes on him, knowing his means of flirtation, as she held her glass out to be filled. She only diverted when she thanked Lady Gilly for the wine.</p><p>Sir Barristan had helped her with the names and descriptions of the other guests; now, she looked down the table, putting names to each. </p><p>There was Dr. Baelish, a quite intelligent man, who sat at the opposite side and end as her seat. Next to him was Sir Varys - a recently retired judge. Lady Olenna, and then that young fellow Joffrey. The other side, her own, she knew - herself, Sir Jon,  Sir Jorah, and General Barristan.</p><p>Sir Joffrey spoke up.</p><p>“Before we eat, I would toast to our <em>very</em> <em>gracious</em> hosts, Mr. and Mrs. Raven!” Although he raised his glass in celebratory fashion, his cheerful speech held mocking undertones. Nevertheless - some men chuckled and played along. </p><p>Lady Daenerys watched Sir Varys, Jorah, and Baelish stand up that fashion, clinking their wines. She felt Sir Jon glance at her. </p><p><em> I’ll toast to it - they </em> are <em> gracious, after all. </em></p><p>She raised her glass before bringing it to her lips.</p><p>“What were you doing in the gardens today, milady?”</p><p>Lady Daenerys patted her lips dry. “I had some time, so I decided to roam. I could see unfamiliar plants and flowers from my window and was curious to know if it was because we are on an island.” a beat. “Why would you want to know my whereabouts, sir?”</p><p>“Curiosity all the same.” Lady Daenerys went to cut her served meat, but he was not finished. “Tell me, do the origins of flowers interest you?”</p><p>“Origins of everything interest me,” she confessed. “But yes, plants and greens especially. They always seem to adapt to the moods of the places around them. And I'd like to learn the moods of several places, one day.”</p><p>“Culture, you mean.”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>He nodded at her before turning forward, lost in thought for a brief moment. With a pinch of a smile on his lips he continued on with dinner.</p><p>Later on during the meal, after several spokes of conversation, her focus fell back onto Sir Jon; and his own was on the centerpiece.</p><p>She followed his eyes. Sure, her bedroom lacked much decoration, but the main rooms of the house seemed to lack any sort of bore. The centerpiece just blended into the rest of expensive furniture;  she never took her mind to noticing it.</p><p>Sir Jon’s behavior protested against that action. His eyes were narrowed with what she wanted to say interest; but, with better, honest judgement, Lady Daenerys could let herself label to look as suspicion.</p><p>But of what? Well, at a closer look…</p><p>It was a line of ten china warriors connected at the feet with one china plank. They were all identical, ancestorly-dulled looking faces formed from the uniformed whiteness of each. They each held a spear and shield in each hand - and from the angle she sat at, the back of them were identical to the front of them. Perhaps so the other side got an equal likeness.</p><p>“What is it, Sir Jon?”</p><p>“Ten little warriors…” he murmured. So low that she found herself slightly leaning in. But at the understanding of what he had said, she connected recent dots.</p><p>“- What?”</p><p>This snapped him out of his small trace - and with it, so to seem, wiped his suspicion-ed expression. “Oh, nothing. Just...talking to myself.”</p><p><em> Wouldn’t want to make a lady nervous, </em> she could almost hear him say.</p><p>“No - I mean, did you say ‘Ten Little Warriors’?”</p><p>He looked semi-taken aback. “Uh - well, yes. There's just this poem -”</p><p>“- hanging in your room,” she finished, nodding. <em> Oh, gods. It must seem like I’ve snooped in myself. </em>“I have one, too. It's titled “Ten Little Warriors”.”</p><p>A line formed between his brows. They met a gaze from across the table, towards Sir Varys. He gave them both a questioning look. “Odd, isn't it?”</p><p>The question was pointed enough for the table to fall silent. But Lady Daenerys shrugged. “The poem itself is a bit gruelling. But it's a nursery rhyme, so I wouldn’t think much of it.”</p><p>Sir Jorah gave a breath of agreeance. “I have that poem, too.”</p><p>“The theme does make sense. The island was named after Casterly Rock, after all,” Sir Baelish noted.</p><p>“Oh?” Casterly Rock was a place of a huge battle, back in their country’s ancient history.</p><p>“I do my research.”</p><p>After dinner, as all of the guests settled into the general room, Lady Daenerys could not help but realize the sudden absence of Sir Jon. She didn't think much of it, though, and sat at the unoccupied poker table, eyeing Lady Olenna and wondering how to make better friends with the hard woman. They, besides Lady Gilly, were the only women in this group for the weekend, and Lady Daenerys first would have rathered to avoid Gilly - not because of her position, but in an effort to not distract her from her job. So it left only Lady Olenna as the option. </p><p>But it seemed to be quite the challenge. It seemed the older woman was less than interested in most interactions and prefered to roll her eyes instead.</p><p>She swirled her glass filled with leftover wine from dinner. She was hired as a secretary. Knowing how much time that usually consisted of, Lady Daenerys did not bring anything to do - not even a book to read. And with Mrs. Raven having not yet arrived...she was struck with boredom and unfamiliarity.</p><p>Her mind wandered on this thought. </p><p>It led her to the kitchens, giving in. </p><p>Lady Gilly was washing the used dishes as her husband seemed to put away leftover ingredients. Lady Daenerys silently went over to the sink and started to assist.</p><p>“Oh!” Lady Gilly jumped. Lady Daenerys gave her an apologetic look.</p><p>“Men entertaining themselves can be so boring. Don’t you think?”</p><p>“I - well - I can’t comment so on the guests, milady.” Although, she added a wink. “Nor should I let them do any of the labour.”</p><p>“Oh, don’t worry a bit. I’m as much a worker here as both of you. My work has just yet to arrive.”</p><p>“Actually, milady,” Sir Samwell said, “Mr. and Mrs. Raven gave us orders to treat you as any other guest.”</p><p>“Then I as a guest am deciding to get my fun in the kitchens.”</p><p>“We’re grateful, milady. But the drinks are to be served, along with a record ordered by Mr Raven.”</p><p>Reluctantly, Lady Daenerys returned to the drawing room. She found it odd that only two servants were hired for such a big estate and party.</p><p>Sir Jon sat in her former seat. Lady Daenerys took the seat next to him, questioning the magnetic look in his eye. He produced a binded notebook. </p><p>“If you recall our first conversation, I am a traveler.”</p><p>“I recall indeed.”</p><p>“Well, a thing us travelers do, you see, is collect things from all the places we go.”</p><p>“I see. How else would you keep in touch with each journey in such a physical way goes past me.”</p><p>“I would agree with you. Along with agreeing with your interest in located flowers; in fact, I have a few I think you would like.” </p><p>Lady Daenerys’s eyes fluttered down to where his fingers untied the book and thumbed to a page in the middle. Sir Jon opened it to reveal pressed flowers, under the title of a country. </p><p>“Oh, how lovely.”</p><p>“These are from the North. There is much snow, but life seems to carry on much the same.”</p><p>He slid the book to her, a silent permission to let her look through it. She accepted upon it and flipped through, careful about the flowers keeping their positions, aweing each place they were labeled to be from. From places both over Westeros and Essos alike.</p><p>“These are amazing. You've been to every single one of these places?”</p><p>Sir Jon nodded. “I’ll have to get something from here, too.”</p><p>He was casted on the pages as she looked at him. Thoughtfully, with a smile, Lady Daenerys flipped to a blank page and took the flower from where it was pinned in her hair. A few strands fell free as she placed it on the paper and slid it back towards him.</p><p>He opened his mouth to speak -</p><p>“<em> Ladies and Sirs, attention! </em> ” glasses clinked as conversations came to a strict halt at the booming voice overhead. “ <em> You have been charged with the following crimes </em>.”</p><p>“What?!” An unknown voice shouted.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Doctor Petyr Baelish, that you did upon the 14th day of March, 1925, cause  </em></p><p>
  <em> the death of Louwenna Mariste.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Olenna Tyrell, that upon the 5th November, 1931, you were responsible  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> for the death of Luciya Stumpun.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Jorah Mormont, that you brought about the death of Jaelor Rantalor </em>
</p><p>
  <em> on October 10th, 1928.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Daenerys Targaryen, that on the 11th day of August, 1935, you were held responsible for arson on the Targaryen estate, resulting in the death of your brother, Viserys Targaryen.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Jon Stark, that upon a date in February, 1932, you were guilty of the death  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> of twenty-one men, members of your own scouting group.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Selmy Barristan, that on the 4th of January, 1917, you deliberately sent  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> your wife's lover, Kralen Feinsworth, to his death.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Joffrey Baratheon, that upon the 14th day of November last, you were  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> guilty of the murder of Kilton and Lanna Combes.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Samwell Tarly and Gilly Tarly, that on the 6th of May, 1929, you brought  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> about the death of Ebista Westyl.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Varys Hill, that upon the 10th day of June, 1930, you were guilty  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> of the murder of Edd Ilinum.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Prisoners at the bar, have you anything to say in your defence?” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>An approximate five seconds of complete silent swept over the guests as the final words of the voice echoed out. It ended with a thud; Lady Gilly had fainted.</p><p>“Mrs. Tarly!” her husband cried, lowering her to the ground. Lady Daenerys would have ran to get some water to amend, but she feared she would faint herself.</p><p>Lady Olenna sat straight. “Who was that? Who isn’t present? Who would <em> dare </em> -”</p><p>“We’re all here, milady,” Sir Jorah whispered, pale in the face. Sir Jon’s chair squeaked as he rose from it. </p><p>“Best go find them, then.”</p><p>It didn’t take long; just around the corner, in an offset room, a record crackled, leading them to the sound. Lady Daenerys had found her leverage, checking on Lady Gilly before joining the others.</p><p>Sir Jon held a record up. There was no true speaker. “It's named “Swan Song.”</p><p>“I don’t care <em> what </em> it's named,” exclaimed Dr Baelish, “This is blasterous!” </p><p>Lady Daenerys turned to him just in time to see the rage on his face, and so much of it - he stalked to the drawing room doorway, where Sir Samwell was rousing his wife. </p><p>“Why would you play such a thing? Why would you, you <em> pig </em>?!”</p><p>“I-I didn’t know, Sir. I swear! I was just following - h - here!” He pulled a small note from his pocket. “I was just following Mr. Raven’s instructions!”</p><p>By the way Dr Baelish sneered, Sir Samwell was telling the truth. His wife sat up a bit. </p><p>“We...I…” she murmured. “...didn’t kill her. We <em> swear </em> . Right, Sam? We, we <em> didn’t </em>.”</p><p>Sir Jon pushed through the crowd. “Let's get the lady up to bed.”</p><p>He and the Doctor helped Samwell with his wife, going to the foyer to start up the stairs. Everyone watched on, and slowly made their way back into the drawing room. This time the silence was anything but pleasant. The men returned, Sir Samwell with drinks. Lady Daenerys watched him stop at the doorway and clear his throat nervously.</p><p>“Um - my wife does not feel well, but it's the truth. Lady Ebista was our last employer; she died of respiratory difficulties. Not - not at our hand.”</p><p>“I didn’t kill anyone, either,” Sir Joffrey pointed. “I have no idea what this record is getting at.”</p><p>“Well then who were those two people, Kilton and Lanna Combes?” Sir Jorah mentioned. “Just made up names?”</p><p>“Kilton and Lanna Combes?” he thought for a moment. “Oh - that must be those two children I hit.”</p><p>The rooms’ eyes collectively widened, but he waved them off. “It wasn’t my fault. They were playing at night. What else could have happened? Couldn't possibly blame me when their parents permitted such a thing.”</p><p>“You<em> killed two children </em>?” Lady Olenna exclaimed. “How do you sleep at night?!”</p><p>“Don’t forget your place on the list too, Olenna,” Sir Baelish commented. </p><p>“That is <em> Lady </em> Olenna to you.”</p><p>“We will see who deserves any title once we all admit to and explain our crimes,” Jon spoke up. Both men made a pointed appearance waiting for her response. Her lips pressed tightly.</p><p>“Lady Luciya, you said? Yes, as I hope you all can follow, I had nothing to do with her death. She killed herself a few days after I released her from my charge. Pure coincidence.”</p><p>  A sigh came from the far end of the room. “The… Sir Rantalor,” Jorah spoke. “Jaelor Rantalor. I am an inspector, and I believe that was the man who died in the jail I placed him in.”</p><p> Baelish went next; “Louwenna Mariste is a patient I had that did not make it through the surgery I was performing.”</p><p>And then Barristan; “A soldier under my command who died in my care.”</p><p>Daenerys stared on, the conviction running her mind through. “The...the arson charges…” she swallowed as focus turned to her. “My home was arsoned. I was the only one who - who made it, who got out, and became a suspect.”</p><p>“Oh, wonderful. So we’re spending the weekend in a house with a fire-crazed bitch.” Sounds of disagreement with Joffrey’s comment murmured.</p><p>“Well if she didn’t have a motive to kill you before, she sure does now.” Daenerys glared at Jon despite the joke that seemed to irritate Joffrey. </p><p>“And what’s <em> your </em> explanation, <em> Jon </em>?” she pushed back at him. “What was the reason to kill twenty-one of your own men?”</p><p>“Their opinions,” he said, like he was ready for the question. “I stopped them before they turned violent.”</p><p>“Oh my word,” Olenna tisked. “How could any of you do such a thing? I’m in a room of heartless beings.”</p><p>At this point, she was ignored. It was clear she had a hard opinion on morals and seeing the first layer of stories. There was no use in giving the time.</p><p>“I don’t know Mr. and Mrs. Raven,” Daenerys said. “I believe they are the real heartless ones, though. Who would pit people together like this?”</p><p>“Well,” Varys finally put in, “What would we like to do about it?”</p><p>“I for one am <em> not </em> too thrilled with any of this,” Olenna said. “I will be going home with the mail boat in the morning.” Everyone nodded. “I tell you, I should have stayed on the boat as soon as the news of the hosts’ absence reached my ears. Who invites strangers to one place without themselves? Especially with the fact that I don't even remember acquainting with a Mr. or Mrs. Raven in my life -”</p><p>“- Well I think,” Joffrey interrupted, “that this seems more exciting than anything.” He picked up his untouched glass from the tray. “I feel we should answer all of these questions. Pull for a fun event, wouldn’t you think?” With that, he threw back the drink with a smile.</p><p>“That may be what you feel. But I for one don’t have a crime to feel a lack of guilt about. I assure you, these other guests -”</p><p>Olenna was cut off once again by Joffrey, but this time, coughing. <em> Hacking </em>. Eyes turned to the disruption to find his face red, almost purple even, clutching his throat as the glass dropped to the floor. </p><p>“He can't breathe!” Dr. Baelish pushed towards him, but Joffrey all but stumbled away. Daenerys watched the scene, stunned and frozen, from the couch. She only snapped out of it as he collapsed on top of her.</p><p>“Get him off! Get him off of me!” Her hands were pinned to her shoulders as she cried it out. As he coughed again, as blood splat onto her face, as it stained her top.</p><p>The weight was pulled off of her and a thud sounded also immediately after. The coughing silenced. The room silenced.</p><p>Daenerys turned her head towards the sound of the drop. Joffrey Baratheon’s eyes met hers, lifeless. The doctor loomed over him.</p><p>“...He's...he's <em> dead </em>.”</p>
<hr/><p>The men carried the body upstairs. Danerys was handed a handkerchief, blindly, and she used it to get the feeling of blood off her face. It probably had still been there, but the effect was enough to ignore it. </p><p>“In all my years,” Olenna muttered. Her fingers thimbled hurriedly through a crochet. “Nothing would ever mount to this...to this...this...<em> inscrutability. </em>”</p><p>Daenerys rocked back and forth slightly, vision hazed on the spot Joffrey was several minutes ago. “You said before...you said you don't recall acquainting the Ravens. Why did you accept, then?”</p><p>“When you’re old like me, child, you will understand. There is not much else to look forward to. You lose track of people you know. When an invitation comes upon you, it is instinct to accept.”</p><p>Varys and Jorah stayed at the other side of the room, having their own conversations.</p><p>“What about you?” she called out to them. “How do you know the hosts?”</p><p>They stared at her, eyes twitched in thought. The remaining men came behind them from the stairwell, visually shaken by the events. All have retired their over-jackets in the effort to situate the body.</p><p>“I don’t exactly know, Miss,” Jorah admitted. </p><p>“Know what?” someone’s voice questioned.</p><p>“Everyone’s relationship with the hosts.”</p><p>The room swept in silence once again. It didn’t take long to realize that no one did. Not really.</p>
<hr/><p>Daenerys shrugged off her jacket in her room last night. She held it away from her, inspecting the stains. <em> The red fabric hides the blood quite well, </em> she thought morbidly.</p><p>She drifted into sleep with the tension of unease around her, eyes blurring at the sight of the hook directly inline with the bed.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. another lesson yet to learn</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thank you so much for the response on the first chapter! your interest excites me!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>                                                   </p><p>She woke with the feeling of no true rest, which was not hard to accept. Early morning light shined through the windows. Daenerys slipped out of the bed, wrapping herself in a shaw and washing her face before leaving her room for some air.</p><p>The manse was quiet, almost eerily so, and her slippered feet echoed against the tiles and down the hardwood. With it being so lively last night, the calmness, aftermath, it all seemed... lonely. Dreamlike.</p><p>Haunted, too. Wandering down the corridors, taking in the stark architecture, her memories came back to tease her subconscious.the big window at the end of the hall invited long rays of sun to gleam in, coating the titles in warmth. </p><p>Daenerys slowed and stared at the sight of it. She imagined the rays getting so hot and reflecting off the surface so much that a small flame would form. And she couldn’t decide what she would do if the small flame would start to grow. If she would watch it. If she would put it out. If she would attempt to, but fail. If instead of failing, she would go right through the matter, truth carrying in with the fact that she was nothing but a ghost who could do nothing but let it happen.</p><p>She was the sort of person who needed tea in the morning. That reminder carried her past that thought. And despite her lack of appetite, she still craved for the warmth of it. </p><p>The kitchen had a kettle ready for heating, but thinking over the events of the previous night, Daenerys poured the water out for a new tap after washing it vigorously.</p><p>
  <em> Daenerys Targaryen, that on the 11th day of August, 1935, you were held responsible for arson on the Targaryen estate, resulting in the death of your brother, Viserys Targaryen.  </em>
</p><p>With the cup in hand, she found herself at the cliff overlooking the sea, tea running cold against the following winds. Daenerys sipped it anyway. </p><p> She still could not decide whether she agreed with the accusation. That evening, the short few hours that turned her life from underneath, played on a loop in her mind - and yet, she never could put together what truly happened.</p><p>Distinct parts were vivid. The visuals -  a red and orange hue, breaking into the air of the sunset that was otherwise beautiful. The smell of smoke that stuck in her nose until this day. The scrutable sound of flames in her ears, the screams in the distance, the pounding on the doors -  and her, just perceiving it all, in the middle of it. Watching. Giving into instinct and not the last pleading words of the others.</p><p>That was the only feeling she could recall clearly. Instinct.</p><p>The autumn waves toppled over each other. Looking on, she couldn't imagine a sight of the boat they arrived on the day before among it. Her hair, in which she had forgotten -  or lacked the will - to tame last night before bed flew to the side sharply. She turned her head to the wind -  and not that far down, caught the eye of two figures. Daenerys walked towards them.</p><p> Jorah’s lips moved, but any words she would be able to hear were taken by the wind. That didn't seem the case for Jon, who stood next to him and nodded methodically. Daenerys planted next to them, peering up at the older man. Jon nodded in greeting.</p><p>The three of them looked into the water.</p><p>“It would seem quite dangerous to sail out there, if I'm not mistaken.”</p><p>“You are not, Miss.” Jorah shook his head.</p><p>“Storm's a-brewin,” Jon added. “By five this evening, I'd say.”</p><p>If it were yesterday, she would joke with him, asking if he knew such things from studying one of the many workings of the world. But things have changed. Everyone's mood, it seemed. It was clear just by the way each other's doors locks clicked when they all went to bed last night.</p><p>Daernerys poured the remainder of her tea off the cliff, the temperature too cold to be enjoyable. They headed back to the top of the manse as bedroom and living space windows started glowing with lights being turned on as the house awoke.</p><p> </p><p>They entered the foyer with the unexpected visual greeting of the rest of the guests. They were huddled around Doctor Baelish, who stood at the stairs. The odd sight made Daenerys pause at the door; Jon and Jorah accommodated by stepping around her, clicking the front door shut against the growing winds. </p><p>“What is this?”</p><p>Everyone looked around, throats tight. Something brewed in her stomach at sch demeanor. Daenerys searched everyone for an answer that seemed too hard to cook up.</p><p>“Mrs. Tarly passed in her sleep last night,” Varys explained. Baelish did not seem well enough to.</p><p>“Wh - what?” Daenerys broke out. “What do you - how is that possible? People don't just die - not when they are as young and healthy and -”</p><p>“Joffrey did,” Olenna bristled. Despite...knowing her now, it might be against them. “I don't think you should qualify death over such things when the majority contradicts it.”</p><p>“Joffrey was poisoned,” Baelish cut out. Everyone snapped to him. “I did a small evaluation with Samwell, Jon, and Jorah last night. And Mrs. Tarly -” He took a breath. “Mrs. Tarly seemed to suffer an overdose of the sleeping pills I provided her. I believe it might have had something to do with both the stress, and alcohol in her system. </p><p>“Or you tainted them,”  Daenerys seethed, the girl’s kind face fresh in her mind.</p><p>“And why would I do that, Miss Targaryen?”</p><p>She held a clenched stare to him. Something wasn't right. Two people within a few hours, dead... It didn't make sense. </p><p>“Let's go sit for breakfast, shall we?” Barristan passed through everyone and made his way to the dining room. Someone touched her shoulder, and Daenerys followed.</p><p>The hall filled with no sound but that of clinking of plates and cups as tea was passed around. Daenerys turned down the offers of it to her.</p><p>The serving door hinges squeaked as Samwell walked in. Heads turned, the air heavy with condolences.</p><p>“I apologize, everyone, for... a pretty simple breakfast. I…”</p><p>“Don't worry about it,” Jon spoke up. “We would never expect as much in such an unfancied time.”</p><p>Not many were hungry, anyway. Each took a polite amount of any proportion when the cook returned, circling around the table with the tray.</p><p>Daenerys sneaked a look up at him when it was her turn. She hoped to give him a condolence - but it was clear that his focus was derived to something else.</p><p>She followed it. The path landed on the warrior dolls.</p><p>Samuel shook free of his trance, moving on to the next side of the table.</p><p>Daenerys did not.</p><p>“Jon?”</p><p>“Yes?”</p><p>“How many figures were there last night?”</p><p>“Ten figures.”</p><p> She nodded, and then turned to the other side of her.</p><p>“Barristan, sir?”</p><p>“Yes, Miss.”</p><p>“Can you count for me, the number of figures at the center of the table?”</p><p>“Eight, Miss Targaryen.”</p><p>She looked across the table, dumbfounded. </p><p>“Samwell?”</p><p>He seems to swallow a lump in his mouth.</p><p>“Yes, Miss.”</p><p>“Why... Why did you move the figures?” </p><p>He paused, looking between the centerpiece and her. “I did not, Miss.” </p><p>“Who -  then who moved to the figures?”</p><p>Everyone looked to one another.</p><p> Jorah leaned into her. “No one moved them, Daenerys.”</p><p>“Yes they did!” She exclaimed helplessly. “There were ten!”  </p><p>“There's…” Samwell took a moment. “There's eight.”</p><p>“Yes, but there <em> were </em> ten.” </p><p>“There were,” Jon nodded.</p><p>“I wouldn't think much of it, Daenerys,” Jorah assured. “Maybe Mrs. Tarly moved them before... Well.”</p><p>Daenerys breathed out her irritation at the lack of question. For this moment, she suddenly almost wished the blasted Baratheon boy was here, eager to solve a mystery.</p><p>Everyone parted to their own separate activities after breakfast. Daenerys closed out the whole meal from her thoughts, desperately reminding herself to not turn crazed to the others. Two people dead in less than twelve hours -  a beyond rare occurrence. Impossible in chance.</p><p>
  <em> Just a coincidence. </em>
</p><p>She was already sick of that word.</p><p>Some of the men went to help Samwell find a cot to sleep on. Olenna was in the drawing room, working once again on that crochet.</p><p> </p><p>At first, Daenerys found herself in the garden. It reminded her of yesterday's innocence, ignorance, peace. It was there where she felt the wind slow down; it must be circling into low tide. </p><p>She walked to the beach. Their trip from one land to another wasn't lengthy. Maybe she would be able to catch the sight of the boat and alert the others of the arrival of the hosts. </p><p>It seemed she wasn't the only one holding that idea. She spotted the white head of Barristan from the top of the beach and went to join him on the rock, looking out over the water.</p><p>“The more we get acquainted, the more I get to understand that our minds think alike, General,” She said smoothly. It took him a few moments to answer.</p><p>“Quite an observation at breakfast.”</p><p>Daenerys sighed. “I need to control myself, I know. It's what my brother always told me. I see things and jump to the furthest answer. It's not in mind that a woman should have, probably.”</p><p>“Perhaps not,” he solemnly agreed. But she didn't feel insulted by it. “But that may be because women's minds work as minds are supposed to. We just haven't listened to them yet.”</p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>Once again, he took a moment. To blink slowly, to gaze out to the sea.</p><p>“I feel a shadow Miss Targaryen. A cloud over us and no sun to ease it.”</p><p>She stared at him.</p><p>“Nor a will to call for such a light. A brightness.”</p><p>Her gaze returned to the ocean. His words resonated in her mind.</p><p>“All right. I'm... I'll return to the others. Would you like to come with me?” </p><p>“I'm going to keep the sea company for some more time. You run on now,  curious creature.”</p><p>She obeyed his request with one more glance towards the back of his head.</p><p> </p><p>Back at the manse she followed a steady string of voices from the far end of the house. Once again, as she came to the doorway of the drawing room, it was revealed as the beings of Jon and Jorah. She passed Varys and Baelish at the fire to make her way over to them sitting at the window.</p><p>“Where are the others?”</p><p>Both men shrugged. </p><p>“I…” it took her a moment to think of the words. She took another glance out at the sea. No boat was on the horizon. Not even for mail. “Mr. and Mrs. Raven aren’t going to show up, are they.”</p><p>“One would assume, at this stage of the storm.”</p><p>She nodded, not knowing what else to say. “Earns you a free pay, at least,” Jon cringed. The joke did not cut through anything but an appreciative smile at the almost-joke. The peculiar abandonment of them by their hosts conceded all reason to find amusement in the arching idea of this job. </p><p>“The mail boat, either. I don't think anything is coming.”</p><p>“Well, I can do without mail for a day if it means men being kept from storm tides.”</p><p>Daenerys swallowed the idea hard and went to leave the two men to their thoughts.</p><p>“Don't think much of it, though. They'll come. Eventually, they will.”</p><p>“I…” an idea flashed through her mind. She was scared to say it, though.</p><p>The conversation had caught the others’ attention. They had all shifted to face them, awaiting what she was to say. She had already looked crazed at breakfast. She was not about to again.</p><p>Jon leaned onto his knees. “What is it, Daenerys?”</p><p>Something about him had changed just then. He reminded her of the charmer he was the day before. She softened a bit, giving into holding up her concealed act.</p><p>“Maybe no one is coming.”</p><p>He looked at her for a moment. “Yes, we thought of that, too.”</p><p> </p><p>She found Olenna on her peaceful lonesome, working on that damnable crochet like any other time one would lay eyes on her. Daenerys barely asked if the woman would like some tea before she was at her side, looping their arms together, and requesting for Daenerys’s companionship on a walk.</p><p>Although the winds had slowed, the idea of the frailing woman against them still shook a bad idea in Daenerys’s mind. She held onto her arm interlockingly.</p><p>“You said you are Mrs. Raven’s secretary, am I correct?”</p><p>“You are.”</p><p>“And those awful accusations on that record last night….what, do I recall, was yours?”</p><p>A curt, throwing question. Daenerys swallowed. “Um - I was blamed for my home’s fire.”</p><p>“Such disrespect,” Olenna tisked. “To put a trauma on someone like that, along with such blame.”</p><p>“...And you?”</p><p>The woman almost scoffed. “I have no trauma. I carry no guilt. That girl went and disobeyed me, giving out such virtue as she did. She became dead to me the moment I threw her out. I cannot be bothered by any decisions she made post that day.”</p><p>They paused at the cliff, looking over the beach. Daenerys could faintly see Barristan’s figure pacing upon it. She smiled slightly, appreciative of his own appreciation for his own company.</p><p>“That man better be washing his feet before stepping foot back into that house. I would not like to sleep on sand bits for the rest of the weekend.”</p><p>Daenerys hummed a laugh and guided the woman along the rest of the path.</p><p> </p><p>By the time they made it back to the house, it was about time for lunch. The sounds of its preparations rang through the downstairs and people streamed pass them to make their way to the dining room. She followed Olenna to retrieve her supplies before joining the table.</p><p>Daenerys made a quick scan of the room upon entry. Everyone, it seemed, was present and seated. Everyone except for -</p><p>“Barristan hasn’t returned yet?”</p><p>“What?” the question came from Jon.</p><p>“Sir Barristan. He has been down on the beach since this morning.” the conversation they had ran through her head, earning a quick shiver to erupt upon her body. A tension settled the room; all for the light clacking of crochet needles. </p><p>She watched it all; Jon’s eyes, hard of her being, brows furrowing in understandment. The precariousness of Baelish and Jorah’s signaling glances to one another. </p><p>The silent conversation spoke amongst them all as the chairs screeched and the front door slammed shut, the two of them off on a search.</p><p>Unsettled, Daenerys wrung her fingers together and kept her head down as she took her seat. She, Jon, Olenna, and Varys were the only ones among the table, leaving four empty seats. Even once the other three were to return, it increasingly seemed like many more than just one was missing from seating.</p><p>Her unfocused gaze flowed to the centerpiece. At this point, it seemed like it was a magnet. A call of some sort, wiring into her brain at a luring length.</p><p>As if the creak of the front door’s hinges were a button, her brain caught up to her eyes -</p><p>“<em> He’s dead! </em>” Baelish cried out, looking pale.</p><p>Seven figures sat on the table.</p><p>“<em> What </em>?”</p><p>“Hit over the head,” Jorah followed in behind him. He was noticeably keeping any craziness of the affair under wraps, unlike Baelish. The latter huffed through the room, running his hands through his thin hair as everyone sat more or less...frozen.</p><p>“M - he was <em> murdered. </em>No...there's no other way…”</p><p>“- By who? Who would -” Olenna trailed off in silent knowing...although others failed to agree.</p><p>“Hit over the head.”</p><p>“He...he <em> knew </em>,” Daenerys whispered. Nonetheless the room honed in on her focus. “He must have known what was to happen. He…” she thought back over their conversation, things and phrases and words shifting into place. “He didn’t think anyone was coming for us.”</p><p>“At this point, no one is coming. The storm is -”</p><p>She cut Varys off. “<em> No. </em>As in, no one was ever coming.”</p><p>Daenerys looked around, desperate for understanding. She found it, surprisingly, in Jon’s; eyes soft on her, dark against the natural rainy light streaming through the windows. </p><p>“There's seven figures, now,” he simply said. She nodded. It was a tone as if he was asking her to confirm it with him. “Three dead, seven figures.”</p><p>“Three dead, seven figures,” Daenerys repeated, sniffling in relief. Her brain seemed to stop hurting at someone else finally listening to her.</p><p>“Mr. Raven - <em> Raven </em> - invited us to an island with no true acquaintance. Three dead without his presence.” Jon held her eyes for one last second before turning to the rest of them. “Does anyone know about the mythology surrounding the Three Eyed Raven?”</p><p>Daenerys did - only briefly, though. In a young education level aspect.</p><p>Jon continued. “The One who watches. Who sees everything, even when you aren't seeing yourself.”</p><p>“Mr. Raven never had to come,” She sounded out. Meticulously. Baelish leaned on his hand, zoning in on her. “He was already here.”</p><p> </p><p>Surprisingly, the chill in the air still didn't seem to over-bear the chill of the revolver pressed into the curve of his back. It was a feeling he was used to, being his job as secret as it needed to be, but the bite of the metal against his skin at every misstep never failed to catch him off guard.</p><p>Jon led the group, although the two men were not far behind; he was the only one with such terrain experience, as much as Jorah was trying to argue differently.</p><p>He thought of those back at the house. Samwell, Varys, Olenna...Daenerys. It unnerved him to know the group was separated. But it was better to have the house occupied, too, so there wouldn't exactly be a safe place for this Mr. Raven to go - smaller groups travel faster as well. At least there wasn’t anyone alone. </p><p>The island was small and lacked much place to particularly hide in itself. The garden was going to be the trickiest, with all of those bushes, but the rest of the island was merely short grass and the beach. The rocks were mostly covered with the tide on the beach for anyone to camp there.</p><p>Their sweep of the land was mostly silent and heavily disappointing. There were no signs of anyone but themselves there. The beach was made quick work of, the blood of Barristan’s murder still staining the rocks, and nothing but a small cave that was barely deep enough to be covered by rainfall called out to them as suspicious. Still, they scoped it, Jon taking this location to pull out his revolver. It earned surprise from the two other men - something he didn't particularly care for, and proceeded. </p><p>There was nothing. No one else on the island; it was clear. He's had enough experience in living among others to know.</p><p>“There's no one else here.”</p><p>Their looks of understandment clarified it.</p><p>The prospect of the group at the house being alone suddenly unsettled him. Out here, having - <em> being </em> the only one with - a revolver, there were no thoughts that sparked panic. But the fact that - they... <em> she </em> was in there, with the chance of…</p><p>“We need to get back.”</p><p>He noticed how this time, Baelish and Jorah kept him in the front. It was amusing to know how manners change with the possession of something coming clear. He didn't need it anymore, so he tucked it back in his waistband.</p><p>They checked the garden once more before heading inside. Everyone was in the drawing room, even Samwell, doing busy-work tasks. Olenna crocheted, Samwell peeled potatoes, Varys peered out the window, and Daenerys seemed to be reading over a paper. They announced their plan to search the house and got to it.</p><p>It wasn’t long before they returned empty handed.</p><p>Attention was pulled to them, to the lack of answer, and Varys stood up. With a breath, he confirmed it;</p><p>“There's no one else here.”</p><p>Jon nodded. “There’s no Mr. Raven. It's one of us.”</p><p>Tension seemed to break throughout the room. No one seemed to breathe. The weight of that statement, the logic of it, barreled into the group, snowballing into exploded suspicion.</p><p>“Well then, <em> who? </em> ” Olenna broke out. “Because it's definitely <em> not </em> me.”</p><p>“I think…” Daenerys pushed through a tight throat. “I think we should all recount.”</p><p>“Very good idea, Miss Targaryen,” Varys said, walking forward. It seemed like he had retook his retired Jury job with the way he stood and spoke. “We have all heard each other's accusations. We should all explain, just then. Would everyone please explain where they were for the first death of Sir Joffrey Baratheon.”</p><p>Everyone was in the same place, pretty much, for that. The strongest contender could've been Samwell, seeing that he served the drinks, but the drink could have been poisoned post forth, making anyone in the room likely. But with that and the second murder of Mrs. Gilly Tarly...well, the use of medicine and doses started to point to Mr. Petyr Baelish.</p><p>“When did you talk to Barristan, Daenerys?”</p><p>She startled, not expecting her name to be pointed out. She looked at the professional expression upon Varys’s face. </p><p>“This morning,” she responded softly. “After Breakfast, down at the -” she stopped with the idea coming to her. “Down at the beach.”</p><p>This caught attention. She wrapped her hands to her elbows, hating the feeling of hard stares, of the heat forming at her back. <em> What was she so nervous for? She hadn't killed him. </em>It was almost as if old anxiety was returning. Old mortal distrust in herself.</p><p>“The blood was too fresh for it to happen that early,” Jorah noted. “It would have dried.”</p><p>“She was gone for a long time. Left before lunch, too.”</p><p>“Yes, to walk with me.” Olenna’s alibi took Daenerys by surprise, anxiety high in her system, and she locked eyes with the old woman. She would never guess her to be  one to help her so. Olenna’s eyes spoke more ease into her than any words could. “Miss Targaryen did not kill that man.”</p><p>“Well -” Baelish bit out, on edge with his own accusation. “What… what about - <em> you </em>, Jon?”</p><p>“- Yes, I would actually be curious,” Jorah entered. “Seeing that you have a revolver.”</p><p>A huge shift in the room. Jon sighed, rubbing his face. “Tell me how a revolver pertains to any of these murders.”</p><p>“Anyone who carries one around is in the mindset to kill,” Olenna spat. Daenerys’s eyes roamed him - almost trying to see where he'd put it. She felt fear, looking at him now. But not...not towards him. More so...<em> for </em>him. </p><p>Really, in the end, no one was truly clear from the suspect. Varys released everyone, now that all the ideas were out in the open. Everyone left the room - doors closed and locked on the floor above her. Daenerys stayed on the couch, thinking.</p><p>She didn’t know Jon had stayed behind too. Strung tight with the conversation, she more or less jumped out of her skin as the cushion dipped.</p><p>He pressed a hand into her knee for reassurance.</p><p>“- Oh. Sorry, I just…”</p><p>“Yeah.” the room fell into the silence of each other's presence. Daenerys cautiously raised her eyes to him, raking him over once again. </p><p>“I...I don't think you killed anyone,” she admitted softly.</p><p>“Well, I have,” he sighed. “Just...not here.”</p><p>Daenerys nodded. </p><p>“Don't think yourself guilty of anything,” Jon continued, analyzing her constricted mannerism. “You aren't.”</p><p>She hummed a laugh. “And how would you know?”</p><p>“I've only known you for a day, and already see yourself too clever to do such a thing.” When it looked like she didn’t take it, Jon pressed on. “You did not kill Barristan. Or Gilly. Or Joffrey.”</p><p>“Who did, then?” She was testing him. His trust in her was arrogant.</p><p>Jon exhaled, raising his eyebrows in a mechanism to loosen his face. “Out of everyone, I do believe Varys can be likely. He's been…”</p><p>“Drawn,” Daenerys finished. She nodded in thought. “Baelish’s alibis aren't strong enough for me to not rule him out.”</p><p>“Poisoning, overdose, and he was the one to find Barristan.” He looked over to her again, Daenerys once again showing how strong her mind was. “That makes sense.”</p><p>Daenerys searched his eyes for a moment, face wrinkles in nervousness. “You...you really don't think I killed anyone.”</p><p>He grew confused at her adamant questioning. But shook his head.</p><p>A moment sat in his answer before she took a folded piece of paper from her pocket. “Alright, then I want to tell you something.”</p><p>He looked at the paper as she sat closer to him. Scrawled on it was a few lines in rushed cursive. Jon recalled some of the lyrics of the nursery rhyme they had discussed. The one hanging in his and her room. Perhaps everyones.</p><p>“I didn't want to take the full thing off the wall, so I transcribed it.”</p><p>“...But why?”</p><p>“Well,” she smoothed it out a bit more. “I just caught myself reading it again. And soon realized, well… you read it. The first few lines.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Ten little soldier boys went out to dine; One choked his little self and then there were Nine. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Nine little soldier boys sat up very late; One overslept himself and then there were Eight. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Eight little soldier boys traveling in Devon; One said he'd stay there and then there were Seven. </em>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>It was eerie. He couldn't deny it. But the last one, it seemed to be reaching.</p><p>Daenerys caught his thought. “When I talked to Barristan before, he wouldn't come back up with me. He said..<em> . </em> he said he would <em> stay there for a bit. </em>”</p><p>This caught him. Jon looked up at her, bewildered. “Do you think he is…”</p><p>She gave him a helpless shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe...maybe someone was <em> watching us </em>, or waiting? I don't know.”</p><p>Jon was at a loss for words. He believed what she said. He remembered how she questioned people coming for them, hair wind-blown. </p><p>“But while you all were scouting, I...I found a book in the study. About that mythology.”</p><p>“What about it?”</p><p>“The Three Eyed Raven, as you said… sees everything. But you failed to say anything other than the present.” she reached under the couch. Jon bent with her, watching her take a record out. It was the Swan Song record. The one of their accusations. “It can also see the past. And,” she leaned back into him, running her finger down the rest of the poem. “And the future.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Seven little soldier boys chopping up sticks; One chopped himself in halves and then there were Six. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Six little soldier boys playing with a hive; A bumblebee stung one and then there were Five. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Five little soldier boys going in for law; One got into chancery and then there were Four. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Four little soldier boys going out to sea; A red herring swallowed one and then there were Three. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Three little soldier boys walking in the Zoo; A big bear hugged one and then there were Two. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Two little soldier boys sitting in the sun; One got frizzled up and then there was One </em>
</p><p>
  <em> One little soldier boy left all alone; He went and hanged himself,  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And then there were None. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“It can just be a coincidence,” He gutted, almost too terrified to believe it.</p><p>There it was again. That word. Coincidence.</p><p>“It could be.”</p><p>She watched him sigh and rub his face. It was exactly what she wanted to do - but between constantly holding up an act for the others, her instinct told her to not. Daenerys smiled a little bit out of irony.</p><p>“To think not a day ago, we were in this room and I was fawning over flowers.”</p><p>Jon turned his head to her from where he rested his elbows on his knees. She gave a slight shake of her head and continued.</p><p>“So much has changed. It was foolish, to think everything would stay so… blissful.”</p><p>“I wouldn’t say so.” He sat back up. “I rather enjoyed yesterday, before the whole...thing. This was supposed to be a getaway estate.”</p><p>“And I was supposed to be a secretary.”</p><p>He breathed a chuckle. </p><p>“I don't think you should punish yourself for finding fun in your job before it started.” he gave her a sheepish shrug. “You made it enjoyable for me.”</p><p>Daenerys dipped her head, feeling her cheeks heat. “How so.”</p><p>“No one has ever asked me about my travels the way you did. It was exciting to show you that book.”</p><p>“It was exciting for me, too. I don’t...I didn’t get out much.”</p><p>His eyes filled with question. She shook her head. “Overbearing brother. He...well, to be short, our family ties were in one place. He didn’t want to leave and fray the string.”</p><p>“I understand that, to a point. My father was sort of opposite. We had family ties all over, and he took us with him whenever he went for ‘visits’. But would take us to several other unnecessary locations along the way. I loved them all.”</p><p>“Hm. Sounds like a dream.”</p><p>“It was, if I ignored everything else. I know many places I am sure you would love.”</p><p>“Oh, do tell.”</p><p>But Jon shook his head and looked at her. “I have learned that hearing about places is much underwhelming than seeing them. I’d much rather show you than tell you.”</p><p>“For full experience. I see.”</p><p>“For full experience.”</p><p> </p><p>If everyone wasn’t in their rooms, it seemed they all had to be within sight of one another. The rain had started to come down, and in response, people started to come down to the drawing room. Daenerys felt no need to go to her room, and honestly, would rather not - so after Jon helped her return the record and book to where she found them, they assisted Samwell in setting the tea up for the hour, which also lured the remaining guests back to the group.</p><p>Daenerys played a soft tune on the piano in the corner as everyone sipped their tea. She had lost need for it especially since it was not the morning, and would rather the music than silence. Besides, it had been months since she had a piano to play. </p><p>“Has anyone taken the lamb from the kitchen?”</p><p>Samwell was at the doorway. Daenerys paused her playing, looking around to see who had, but no one spoke up.</p><p>“I don't see why we should trust you with making the lamb,” Baelish gritted. “You are as guilty as the rest of us.”</p><p>“I wasn't making the lamb - but it's missing. The plate, too.”</p><p>No one knew what it meant. But it made them nervous nonetheless.</p><p> </p><p>With the scare of poisoning in everyone's mind, Daenerys took it upon herself to go and ‘help’ Samwell with making dinner. Jorah followed with no other reasoning than “Just an extra precaution.”</p><p>She could see clearly through it, to the idea that either her or Samwell was the killer and would kill the other. But he stood to the side as they prepared some canned dishes, so she didn’t mind.</p><p>The table felt as empty as she thought it would with two people missing. The center piece, now with the context, felt daunting. She and Jon had yet to tell the others. But the figures at least were clear as the count down.</p><p>Jorah seemed keen on something, rubbing his chin. “What if we took the figures away?”</p><p>“It's to taunt us, nothing more.” Jon sounded tired. “It wouldn’t pause the grievances.” </p><p>With dinner done, they walked up the stairs in pairs of three and two. Samwell locked the dining room door in effort to maybe stop the figure taking for the night, perhaps hold back someone getting murdered in their sleep. As so Baelish claimed.</p><p>Daenerys stood in between Jorah and Jon. She tapped them as they approached her door.</p><p>“Goodnight, Daenerys.” Jon said, loud enough to alert those in front. But then he put a hand on her arm. “Please, don't forget to lock your door.”</p><p>“I won’t,” she assured him. “Nor you.”</p><p>With a nod, they parted for the night.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>some may have notice the chapter count has risen; i split the final chapter into 2 because <i>so much<i> happens. it may change again since i easily added about 900 words to this during editing haha. hope you enjoyed:)</i></i></p><p> </p><p>  <i><br/><i><b>Cast/Status of Characters:(will be updated each chapter)</b><br/>Mr. And Mrs. Raven - Hosts<br/>Petyr Baelish - Doctor/Guest<br/>Olenna Tyrell - Guest<br/>Jorah Mormont - Guest<br/>Daenerys Targaryen - Mrs. Raven's secretary<br/>Jon Stark - Guest<br/><strike>Joffrey Baratheon - Guest</strike><br/><strike>Barristan Selmy - Guest</strike><br/>Samwell Tarly - Hired Cook/Staff<br/><strike>Gilly Tarly - Hired Cook/Staff</strike><br/>Varys Hill - Guest</i></i></p><p> </p><p>  <i><br/><i>find me at <a href="https://targsdany.tumblr.com/">targsdany</a> on tumblr! please stay safe in quarantine!</i><br/></i></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. fool me once, fool me twice</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hello lovelies! sorry for the delayed posting on this one - although i have everything prewritten, i edit them alot before i post, but time(rewatching Lucifer twice in a week) got away from me. i hope you enjoy, though!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Beyond his closed door, Jon laid back on his bed and slipped his revolver into his hands. His job here was disclaimed to maybe fall into dangerous territories...but nothing to the level of what he just locked his door against.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He passed it around in his hands, staring at his thoughts on the ceiling, feeling the heavy metal and weight through his fingers. It made slight click and clanks as he did this. He could not decipher between whether it was the memories attached or the assured protection that came with it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blindly, he released and reloaded the ammunition. It was a habitual move at this point - like retying a neck scarf, or fiddling with cufflinks. The sound of the slide felt satisfying. His fingers skimmed all the bullets every time they passe through.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes perched on the door. For a moment he slowed his movements to a pause, as if something called for him to. As if something was happening on the other side of it...or the other side of the wall at his head, or the one at his feet. But there was nothing to greet his curiosity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grabbed the gun from limp fingers and pointed it at the door in practice. Nothing was there yet, but when it did come, he'd be ready.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon woke that morning to the sun. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Which was odd, since he was a light sleeper, and was up to the sounds of Samwell getting everything ready for the day the day before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Leaving his room, Jon soon saw that not many others were awake yet - or, at the sound of his door opening, had only then started to rise. The house was otherwise quiet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Downstairs, he found Jorah and Varys in the study. The aftermath of the night’s rainstorm set humidity into the room. Jorah looked obviously exhausted; Varys, more dazed, focus lost on the bookshelf across from him. Jon felt for Horah; he could tell he was some sort of a gentle man, even if he was also righteous. The three deaths from the days before had monumentally exhausted all of them emotionally, and he probably lost sleep from it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where’s Samwell?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jorah shrugged. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The kitchen. He probably slept in; hasn't rested since the news yesterday.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Light footsteps trailed from above. Jon peaked out the doorway just to see Daenerys stop at the end of the stairs - frozen, head hard on something. He followed it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The dining room door was open instead of the locked state they left it in that night. Seeing as Samwell was awake, he probably just unlocked it this morning - nothing out of the ordinary. But being the silence of the house and anxiety of their situation...that thought didn’t seem to go through her mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon followed her into the dining room. She practically ran to the table and froze once more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Six,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” she whispered. Daenerys turned to him, somehow not fazed by his presence. “There’s six.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It dawned on him. Six. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jorah! Varys!” he ran out of the room, back to the study. “Check the rooms.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The only person still asleep was Baelish. Olenna came from outside as they returned downstairs - she had a few roses and was walking in the garden. She clicked the door shut in exhaustion - Daenerys rushed forth, asking the woman if she was alright. Olenna gave her a simple nod and carried on it her fazed route. Emotionally exhausted it seemed. Daenerys couldn't blame her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baelish had risen immediately, following the group around the house, looking for Samwell. He wasn’t in the kitchen.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was, hence, in the woodshed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jorah had found him - and with a shout, people filed in, to also find him - with a comfortably placed axe in his spine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daenerys came barreling into the room after Jon. He blocked her from going any further with an arm across her chest. She grasped his bicep as she fell into a gasp.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon surveyed the scene. With a swallow, he reported; “Must’ve been chopping wood for the furnace.” He parted from Daenerys to circle around where Jorah was kneeling in disbelief. Jon reached into the pocket he remembered Samwell stuck the key in. It was empty. The skin underneath held no warmth. “It’s been a few hours. Killer must've killed him and stolen the key to take the figure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It's...it’s like -” Daenerys choked on the words, trying to push past the lump in her throat. The rising bile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? What is it?” Varys countered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Seven little warrior boys chopping up sticks,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Daenerys closed her eyes, nodding to each word, reciting the poem slowly engraving in her brain.</span>
  <em>
    <span> “One chopped himself in halves </span>
  </em>
  <span>and - a...and - </span>
  <em>
    <span>and then there were Six.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She looked around helpless. She always felt so helpless.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon looked up at her dazed. Eyes taut, face long and lips parted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The poem,” she explained. “The figures, the poem, its all -” Daenerys inhaled, deeply, recounting her clear explanation with Jon. They should've told the others. They should've warned them, they should've - “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Ten little warrior boys went out to dine; One choked his little self and then there were Nine.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Joffrey - Joffrey, he...he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>poisoned</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and - </span>
  <em>
    <span>Gilly</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she -” she swallowed the bile, the overwhelming spit - “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Nine little warrior boys sat up very late; One overslept himself and then there were Eight.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Don’t you see? It's the poem! All - all of it - oh, gods, what's the…” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Six little warrior boys playing with a hive; A bumblebee stung one and then there were Five.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She snapped to Jon. He had said it. Daenerys nodded, first as a confirmation, but then, it got faster, it got - her breath got shorter -</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>A bumblebee stung one and then there were Five. </span>
  </em>
  <span>A bumble bee. A hive.” She looked to the three men who roamed the island the day before. “Did you see any? Did you see any hives? When you scouted - when you - did you see any hives or bees?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were no responses. She didn't give them enough time for one. Her brain was circuiting too fast, her breath was reaching her lungs too slowly, and the little water she had drank the past few days was rising from the lump in her throat to her eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Olenna! Olenna, you were just in the garden. Did you? Did you see any? Did you see any hives? Or bees? Please, we need - we’re going to die if not - its going - the </span>
  <em>
    <span>poem</span>
  </em>
  <span>, it says it -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her words disappeared with a hand across her face. Her neck whipped to the side, but not before she saw a flash of Baelish’s face. Her hand covered the stinging of it, an empty reminder from months and years ago. Her life before.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“</span>
  </em>
  <span>Hey!” Jorah shouted.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We are </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>going to be slapping women around.” Jon’s voice was one of the only things she heard in the last few minutes of her breakdown. His voice got closer. She jumped at a hand to her back, pulling her side in close to his chest. “Why don't you go make some tea, hm? Get some ice. Olenna will help. We’ll finish here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daenerys sighed and nodded against his chin, peeling her hand away from her face. He pulled away from her and briefly checked her skin. She peered up at him, conscious of everyone around them, wondering what he was trying to do. A tear leaked. She wiped it herself and parted from him, into the kitchen.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>A part of her was left in that wood shed. Checking the eggs once more, Daenerys found herself staring into the water watching them boil and bounce around each other. It reminded her of flames.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Olenna was cutting bread. There wasn’t much else in the kitchen, at least for breakfast, that would be made in a short period of time. Her stomach was hollow. She had no appetite. Surely not many others did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daenerys watched the woman do her task. She did it efficiently, which made Daenerys wonder what life she really lived. She dressed nice and acted rich. But she was also old. Who knew how many lives she had lived. Who knew how long it was until this one ended. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you afraid?” she found the question for herself being spoken out loud. Olenna paused, looking at her for a small while. Taking in her reddened cheeks and tear streaked eyes. The woman was always hard. Her face was always so unreadable, emotion hidden in age - and yet, Daenerys caught the nervousness before she turned back to the bread. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have no reason to be. All that have died so far have been simply punished for their crimes. I have no crime to be punished for.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The answer unnerved her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But still, she looked back at the woman. Her features...unlike the day before, on their walk, were thin columns supporting her words. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think we all want to think that,” Daenerys said warily. “But right under the mask, or maybe even two, the guilt is starting to seep through.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you trying to say, young lady?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daenerys smiled a little. “I don’t think I’m trying to say anything. I believe I’ve succeeded in my words out right. And perhaps this is what it is. Perhaps we capsized on that boat on the way over here, and this is the place we give in to all of it.”</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>The men came back with new shirts and pants. Breakfast was a polite affair, Daenerys taking to merely nibbling on toast to not be out of sorts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The conversation was small talk - that was all. They asked each other how they all slept that night, despite the situation, and the answers were in majority pleasant. It may have not been true - but then again, sometimes the body referred to sleep in dire situations to ignore it. Daenerys just knew her body did not.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Olenna sat straight across from her. She looked slightly dazed, looking blankly past Daenerys’s shoulder, at the window. Daenerys believed she was having the same difficulty with sleep the night before - even if she did not want to express such a weakness. She partially felt bad for asking such a thing in the kitchen. But, out of what she had been told the day before, attempting to put the woman in her place...it wasn’t exactly mean, she didn't think.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>People finished eating. Making breakfast was nothing but a distraction for Daenerys; no one expected her to be a server now that both the others were...well, dead. And so everyone piled their plates and stood to clean the kitchen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Olenna did not. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Daenerys paused to look at her. “Are you alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, dear. Just a bit tired I believe. The rain never sits right with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daenerys collected her plate for her. Baelish poked in. “Would you like something to take? A small sedative, maybe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, she would not,” Daenerys snapped. She stood in front of him, waiting for him to move into the kitchen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She placed the plates by the sink and ran a quick pot of new tea. She tried to remember what Olenna liked, but her brain was hazed with many more things than tea. Asking Jorah to watch from the doorway, she grabbed the simple add-ins and took everything out to her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, thank you dear. Very sweet of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daenerys watched Olenna as she poured the tea for her. Quite odd of a change in her personality. But she smiled, gesturing to the tray. “What do you take?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A lump and splash, please.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daenerys did as instructed. Olenna still stared out the window across from her, brows pinched in interest. It was clear she wasn't going to take it for herself. Nor did Daenerys trust her to hold it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here,” she hinted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh - no. If you could, add some honey?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daenerys paused. Did she ever take honey before? Daenerys had grabbed it, just because it was there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A - are you sure?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes of course, Luciya. Plenty of honey. I would like something sweet. And honey is oh-so-sweet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Luciya</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The girl she had supposedly driven to suicide. Unnerved, Daenerys gave her some more honey. The bee on the label of the bottle made her heart thumpp loudly, so she turned it away from her as she squeezed a gallop in and then went to return to the kitchens. She turned back to Olenna at the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please call if you need anything. I’ll be right in here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They cracked the door and went about cleaning the plates and pots.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Olenna had turned blue when they returned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daenerys saw the peculiar look about her from the doorway, immediately pushing off as she shouted her name.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> A figure had been taken away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arms hooked Daenerys’s elbows and pulled her back, keeping her from the body. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait. Stay away, just in case.” Jon’s breath brushed her ear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The doctor inspected her with a green face. He straightened with a huff. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lethal injection. In her neck.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like the seven </span>
  <em>
    <span>hells</span>
  </em>
  <span> it is!” Daenerys snarled. “You were going to give her a sedative. What else do you have in your bag, doctor? A gun, maybe? Some more </span>
  <em>
    <span>sedatives?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Calm her down!” Baelish screeched back. Instead, Jon loosened his hold on her. “I have a syringe in my medical bag. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Unused.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Its </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span> you should be pointing fingers at!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Confused, daenerys followed his finger to where it pointed - Jon. Fire brewed in his eyes. She stepped away from him just in time for Jorah to circle around and push Jon back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If anyone is a killer here, its the </span>
  <em>
    <span>dick</span>
  </em>
  <span> who already killed his own men! And for </span>
  <em>
    <span>what!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“At least I actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>own </span>
  </em>
  <span>to it,” Jon seethed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah? Then you’ll have no problem shootin’ me here. Cmon, whats another life when you’ve already taken five in the past two days?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t you </span>
  <em>
    <span>dare</span>
  </em>
  <span> blame </span>
  <em>
    <span>any </span>
  </em>
  <span> of this shit on me. That revolver is for occupational use. It was</span>
  <em>
    <span> issued </span>
  </em>
  <span> to me. Just because i know how to shoot one doesnt mean im a </span>
  <em>
    <span>psychotic sadist</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Do you see any bullet holes? Hm?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Daenerys has a point,” Varys boomed over the both of them. “The revolver, your medical kit… too many options. We need to confiscate everything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I brought the revolver for a reason,” Jon gritted. “I’m not just locking it away. Especially now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If we don’t have anything to kill each other with, we won’t need anything to protect ourselves,” Daenerys reminded him her voice was weak compared to every thing she heard in the past few moments. He backed away from Jorah and nodded at her.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>They first went to Jon’s quarters. Somehow, they reminded her of him; of the traveler she had just met on the train who knew his way around the world. It was neat, not at all made into his space.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Jon walked over to a locked drawer in the writing desk and pulled out his key from the dresser. He opened it enough for Jorah to grab the revolver. But a quizzed expression hit him, and he pulled the drawer fully, only to uncover nothing there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was right here. I polished it this morning and put it back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baelish did not look amused. Happy at all, really, seeing that he was coming to be a bigger suspect. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Strip,” he commanded. Everyone looked at him. “Everyone. We all need to strip.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon snuck a glance at Daenerys. “I really don't think there a need to -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think we can spare some immodesty for our safety,” Varys agreed. “We will strip and stand back as everyone else searches our room. That way we cannot sneak anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon looked like he was about to seeth, but he nevertheless started to push off his suspenders and entered the bathroom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jorah checked the drawer again. Daenerys did all of the other ones as well as under and behind - where her brother always hid them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon reemerged and tossed his clothes in front of him. Her eyes pulled to the heap of them briefly before her attention forced them back to her search.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She tried to stay focused. She really did. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But his torso was lean, and pale, and much like the ones that Greek statues expressed. His muscles enhanced a different way every time he inhaled and exhaled. His hair seemed to be loosened in the way he pulled his shirt over his head, leaving a stray curl against his forehead, and the towel he covered his bottom half with sat low on his hips, giving a bland view of a V.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Traveling does the body well, it seemed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They pulled the room apart and found no revolver. She could tell the disappearance left Jon disconcerted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The next room was the Doctor’s. Daenerys found his medical bag under his bed. She sat it on the bed so she and Jon could both look through it. They took all drugs out that could be lethal as well as searched for the syringe Baelish claimed to have in there. Luckily, but confusing, they found it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The men let Daenerys go into her room to change before starting to search. Thankfully, she had brought a bathing suit, just in case. It still left her feeling exposed, though; like the others, she grabbed a towel, wrapping it around her shoulders before opening the door for the others.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It didn’t seem like they were making her modesty known when it came to the constraints of their searches. They pulled her suitcases and room apart like the two rooms before, not minding that her undergarments were a part of that. She didn't know if it made her self conscious or not.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon walking over to her at the doorway did, though. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She could feel his gaze on her. Watching her, maybe for reaction, maybe just being a man. Daenerys was curious, and so she returned the look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stubbornness. That was the only description she could name it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had yet to say anything. She searched his lips for a smile, or a smirk, but it never came. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” she asked. “Do you not trust my state of undress?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He said nothing, still. But he turned, back against the frame, and took a step over to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daenerys tilted her chin to reach his eyes. They danced over her face and across her collarbones.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She moved the towel. So he could see her shoulders. And the curve of her chest, the dip of her waist, the swell of her hips. Everything that may be hidden more in her everyday wear than this bathing suit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He accepted the invitation, dipping his head slightly, clenching his jaw.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Call me Dany,” she whispered. He looked back up at her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dany,” he tasted. Daenerys nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She's all clear,” Jorah called, starting to sit up from looking under the bed. Jon backed away. Daenerys closed her towel back around her. They shared one more look before continuing on to the next room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two other rooms were just as safe as the others. They still had yet to find the missing gun; something in which Baelish had started to fume at.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Every other room of the manse was pulled apart. They locked the doors of the dead and shoved them under, hoping that would eliminate any chance of them having to search those rooms or the killer hide things in it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Every shelf of the study was removed. Every cabinet, every drawer - still, nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The five of them sat in the rummage drawing room, exhausted and drained.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jorah nursed a bottle. Jon flipped through a book she could tell he wasn't actually reading. Varys again sat at the window, and Baelish lit a cigarette.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daenerys stared at the piano, trying to find a will and reason to play. None came. She placed her hands on her knees to stand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to make some tea, if anyone would like some.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon immediately closed the book and tossed it to the side. “I’ll go with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daenerys nodded, waiting for the rest of the group’s response. Jorah peered in between them. “We all will, actually.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She winced, but nodded once more. She headed to the kitchen without waiting for anyone.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>The tea was tactifully nice even with the cloud that hung over them. As the sun dimmed the natural light, they realized the lights had started to fail without the Tarleys’ maintenance of the generator. They decided to switch to candles instead, and drank their tea over the light of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes were drawn to them. For a good many months she had learned she didn't respond well to flames any longer. The small light rose and tumbled, dancing in its own space, coaxing to wax to soften and drip. Her eyes unfocused themselves. The sight of the candle doubled and merged, the flame traveling, the haze of its color bleeding into the background. One tip of it, one misstep...and the house house could go up in flames. And they would be stuck on an island for a day or more, no safety from a killer. All the valuables inside, gone. That beautiful piano that made so much music, the formal curtains that were nothing more than expensive wicks, the bodies and the sheets and the beds and her bathing suit and her childhood - </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her thoughts, as usual recently, tumbled into recounting. The sight of her house, her ancesterly home, red and black in the completely wrong way, how everything she had ever known, good and bad, was nothing but char. The emptiness of her mind running down the hallways. The screams and the pounding up stairs. The heat on her neck. The way her heart clenched as she took all of it in once out side, and the empty feeling went she gave into people telling her she was not allowed to go back in. the sound of a match striking...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think a new rule should be given.” She jumped back into herself as everyone turned to Varys. Her tea sloshed at the movement, thankfully low enough in her cup to not spill over. He took a long sip from his tea before going on. “From now on, it's either one person at a time, or all of us. No pairs.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everyone agreed. Daenerys downed her tea and stood uneasily to her feet. Her eyes hooded with the mess of her mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, in that case. I’ll be running a bath. Unless all of you would like to come with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn't wait for the reaction. Instead, she went upstairs and started the tap. She felt filthy after an afternoon of going through mens’ clothes. Her clothes came off for the second time that day, and she picked a fresh towel from the dresser as she took the pins from her hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The water steamed warmly - surprisingly, since the electricity was starting to go. Daenerys sank into the water, enjoying the slight tingle of its high temperature, and reached for soap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she couldn't feel it, Daenerys sat up, confused. Did it slip into the water without her noticing?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a brief search she realized it was nowhere to be found. She reached for another, not ashamed of exploiting the house's products since five people had died in it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daenerys opened the small box for the bar soap. Without looking, she tilted it, ready to catch it in her hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead fell out tens, maybe even a hundred, of matches. Into her hands and the water.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Images flashed through her mind; the hot water became unpleasant, the air felt too stuffy, the -</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The feel of them. The scent. Daenerys screamed, leaping out of the bath, giving into a slip on her wet feet and grabbing the towel instinctively. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She peered at the matches from the spot at the wall. They floated in the water, just barely breaking the surface, taunting her. One could light and burn the house down. One could light and burn every piece of grass on this island.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her door slammed, and she screamed again. This was it. She was - it was her turn - </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh gods, what was the next line of the poem? How was she going to die?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“...</span>
  <em>
    <span>Dany.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Daenerys jumped, whipping to the side. Jon crouched there, eyes and hair wild. She probably looked no better. Jorah and Baelish shadowed behind him. Jon had a hand on her naked knee and high shoulder. She melted into them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry. I just-” she gestured to the bath and swallowed dryly. “Matches. It just surprised me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m alright.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re shaking. Let’s get you off the floor.” His hand slid to her elbow and leveraged her up. Daenerys clutched her towel to her chest; and in a terrifying moment, realized she was barely covering all of herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon turned fully, creating a wall for her, grabbing the ends of the towel when her shaking fingers couldn't and wrapped the rest of her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pushed her slightly forward and led her out of the bathroom. Over his shoulder, he ordered the others. “Clean this up. She was just spooked.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baelish stayed to do just that. Jorah brushed past them all, muttering something about a drink for her, and disappeared downstairs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At this point, Daenerys couldn't care less. Even with Jon overlooking, she went to the dresser and picked her second night dress, pulling it over her head before letting the towel fall, and then pulling her undergarments on right before Jorah returned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s unopened.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon took it from his hands and took the water glass from the bathroom. But when he returned, he froze, taking a look around the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where's Varys?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baelish came from the bathroom as well as if to see for himself. Jorah looked around quickly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh - I don't think he came up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Varys</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” Jon called out. They waited for a response. Nothing came. “Shit.”</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>dont forget to leave me some thoughts and theories in the comments - i think its my favorite part of this fic, to be reading how your mind is putting this together! </p><p>or, talk to me at <a href="https://targsdany.tumblr.com/">targsdany</a> on tumblr:)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. death or paradise</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i forgot to include the character status last chapter!</p>
<p>I forgot the character status last time! here it is:<br/><b>Cast/Status of Characters:</b><br/>Mr. And Mrs. Raven - Hosts<br/>Petyr Baelish - Doctor/Guest<br/><s>Olenna Tyrell - Guest</s><br/>Jorah Mormont - Guest<br/>Daenerys Targaryen - Mrs. Raven's secretary<br/>Jon Stark - Guest<br/><s>Joffrey Baratheon - Guest<br/>Barristan Selmy - Guest<br/>Samwell Tarly - Hired Cook/Staff<br/>Gilly Tarly - Hired Cook/Staff</s><br/>Varys Hill - Guest</p>
<p>i was going to post this chapter two days ago, but my birthday got busier than planned! i have feeling you all will orgive me, though!</p>
<p>happy reading;)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>                                                                  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Daenerys untucked her hair and followed Jon out of her room, the footsteps of the others behind her. Jon made a quick to the drawing room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They saw the painted window before noticing the bullet hole in his brain.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> Baelish went and repeated Jon‘s words. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Shit.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But…” Jorah looked over the scene, the mockery costume of a judge strewn over Varys. “We didn’t...there was no gun shot. We looked goddamn </span>
  <em>
    <span>everywhere</span>
  </em>
  <span> for that gun.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The killer must’ve timed it perfectly. Baelish, you were the last one up. Have anything to say?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Instantly, Baelish heated. “Why, because you were too busy with </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dany?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Enough! Enough.” Jorah wrapped the Judge's head with the clothing and started to situate him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Varys was moved to his bedroom like the others.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Daenerys had never seen what they did with the bodies. She always stayed downstairs. It was nice, though, if a bit haunting. Simply lied on their backs with a sheet over their head. Vary’s bullet wound soaked through quickly, but they didn’t seem to care.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jorah walked around the bed, to Varys’s bedside table.  He pulled a bottle out of the drawer. It was clearly alcohol; he took a swig of it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Expensive stuff. Wouldn’t expect anything less from a judge.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They all trailed back to the dining room. Over another canned dinner they drained the Judge’s bottle easily, seeing that he himself helped them more than not, and did not hesitate to get more.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Daenerys never drank, not really, and in the situation they were in did not want to make herself vulnerable. But she laughed at the jokes of Baelish and Jorah, even though one of them had killed six people, and let herself fall into the arms of Jon when she stumbled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was all hazy. It was lit with tens of candles that she forgot to care for. It was strewn with plates and bottles they opened and forgot to finish before opening another. With red faces, with forgetting to care, with the chasing fear away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For a night, they let go. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Again, Daenerys kept in check. It was very easy to lose oneself when drunk, and despite how messy her hair got or how much wine had fallen onto her nightgown, she was careful to be careful. She did not forget to look over her shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Although, when she did, Jon always seemed to be there.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And she'd smile up at him, red in the face and heart pounding, appreciating the lines of his jaw when he looked up to the chandelier. She found love in warmth again when she felt it in the hands at her waist. She wanted fire when their chests pressed together, dancing around the table like there was no care in the world or on this island.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But even in direity their hearts would get tired, and so did their limbs. Their bodies could only take so much alcohol, nature unaware of life’s brevity ahead. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Their bodies just knew right now. The feeling of them slowing but not parting. The slope of the back of his neck as she embraced him fully, bending over her, breathing into her hair. The heat of his chest where he unbuttoned his shirt. The slow rocking their dance had turned into. How it lured her to something, so alike to sleep, although not that at all.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His lips met her sweaty temple. They traveled to her forehead and then to her scalp.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re going to leave this place,” He murmured there. “I’m going to get us out of here. I will, Dany. I promise you. This… there is no time to die with us. With this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The weight of their situation returned. She let out a shaky breath. Her arms at his back and neck had loosened since they slowed, and she couldn't seem to tighten them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m going to bed.” She heard Baelish’s voice distantly. She didn’t want to go to bed, no - not when she wanted nothing but stand right here.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jorah seconded it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dany,” Jon roused. She nodded against his shoulder and peeled away. Exhaustion enveloping her, she kept her eyes away from Baelish and Jorah’s suscepting faces, padding up the stairs with footsteps behind her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The exhaustion, she realized as her door clicked shut, was not physical. It was still early in the night. She just only needed to get away from all of it - her mind did, anyway. The cloud that set among them had started to weigh on her brain and now it was only dragging along.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a knock on the door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Daenerys watched the knob twist and click back open. She was nervous. But not in the way she would think she was supposed to be when in the house with a murderer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Because Jon's hair and shirt and self slipped in. His eyes were deep in the shadows of her room. There was only light by two candles.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You should really lock this door, you know,” he droned. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Daenerys stood before him, stained nightgown and tousled curls. She liked his hair like it was right then. Unrestricted and thick.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She tilted her chin up at him. She looked for any of his weaknesses - any sign he was nervous. She was unsuccessful.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Daenerys made sure their eyes locked. Throwing away that key somewhere into the depth of where she never wanted to go, she walked around him, commanding his loyal gaze. She backed against the door. It clicked back shut. With a twist of her arm, she locked it, obeying his wish.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A breath escaped him as he took a step to her. And like that, he was in her space, and she strained her eyes against his to maybe see a glimpse of his pupils, of where they separated from his brown. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His breath brushed her nose. Her breath brushed his neck, down to his shirt. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She could feel his heat. Through the air she could, his torso a furnace in itself, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>feeling</span>
  </em>
  <span> of his presence, of what it did to her, and -</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>- And his lips.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They merely pressed together, skin on skin, before want gave in and she closed around them. He captured her there, the softness of each other finally coinciding with the insides of their mouths as they opened for one another. It was careful, testing, a bit constricted in experimenting, before the slight separation as the fastening broke called for anything but. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jon went back in this time, confident and powering, pushing her head to the door with the slight demand as he slanted his mouth over her. Daenerys accepted - </span>
  <em>
    <span>begged </span>
  </em>
  <span>for it, for more, and her fists found his hair after traveling up his torso. She pulled him closer with that slight control, barely welcoming the tongues of both of them before languid collision, and when he couldn't get any deeper in her mouth his lips delved to her cheek and jaw and neck.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Daenerys let out a sigh as he did just that. His arms wrapped around her, pinning her shoulders to the door with his lips and head while her hips affixed to his. He nipped her shoulder to hide the groan, and with her gasp, tasted the breath she took in. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She reached on to her toes, reaching higher for </span>
  <em>
    <span>more</span>
  </em>
  <span> of this high, for more of him; and with a distraction of rolling his hips, breaking her into another gasp, his hands swept to her arse to lift her up, binding her to the door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stabilized, Jon made quick work of finding the hem of her night gown and she did the same with his belt. Their mouths got messy, prioritizing, fingers fumbling for what they needed. Daenerys’s hand slid under her shirt to roam his torso briefly, just because she was curious, and his impatience earned her another roll of his hips. This time it hit friction. Her panties and his trousers made an excellent combination. It earned </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span> a moan from her, in which he delighted at, reaching all the way up her dress to cup one of her breasts. He thumbed a nipple, breaking the kiss to let her gasp, and then giving her a lingering peck before rocking against her again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She straightened her knees to stand. For a second, Jon thought it was all over - despite her adamant goal to keep their foreheads connected, hand bracing his neck to do so, as the other fumbled with the attempt to push her panties down.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He almost laughed when he noticed. Instead, he helped her slightly, pulling them off when they reached her ankle before replacing her calves around his hips.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He could feel her heat, now. With his trousers falling past his knees, his cock hard with anticipation, his mind full of desperation to do this tonight even as their world around them fell apart.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>We’re going to leave this place.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I’ll get you out of here, Dany.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I promise you.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He grinded his cock against that heat, catching her clit, coating himself with her wetness that he loved was already there. Once again, Daenerys broke off the kiss to moan. It made him want to do it again and again - and so he did. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her hands struggled for true purchase; his shirt, his hair, biceps, chest. He felt her hips attempting to roll with his, against his, and so he toed off his pants and readjusted them both to move to the bed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With his arms banded around her waist, Jon did not move them to the side of her until he fully pressed them into the mattress. Her fingers danced across his hips until finding his shirt, swiftly pulling it over his head, and the both of them made quick to do the same with her dress.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They both laid bare to each, then. Jon kneeled between her thighs, looking down at her smooth skin, at her perfect round breasts and pinched nipples, flushed face and curls and center.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She had a moment, too. To see what was under that towel early today, now ready for her, the tease being anything more she could imagine. Her hands smoothed his thighs, partially digging in to tell him </span>
  <em>
    <span>Come back, I want more of you</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jon obeyed her, sweeping into another kiss that worked as foreplay more than anything she'd ever done before could. Still, he ran his hands over her body, down her arms and waist and thighs and </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh, there</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was a quick swipe, a teasing roll of his finger at her core, before they came back to her hip and stayed there. Her hips rolled and seeked nonetheless. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He broke the kiss to rock against her again, brushing their noses together, and she opened her eyes to find his on hers. Somehow, now she could see it, his pupils wide with the sight of her. Daenerys cupped his face, giving him one last chaste kiss, hoping that was enough conversation for him to understand. They had spoken in fewer words before.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She felt him at her entrance. He had heard her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Daenerys trailed her hand down his face and neck and shoulder and arm, holding his wrist and breathing in. Jon brought his elbow to the mattress. He flipped his arm over and found her hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And then her hips rolled as his did, and he pushed in with one slow thrust, finally letting a sigh escape him as he buried himself completely. He let his neck give out and forehead press into her collar bone. Daenerys closed her eyes, other hand finding his hair, letting breaths escape her as they pleased as he gave some adjusted thrusts. She bit his shoulder as she felt him build speed, not exactly slowly, but sensual. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Dany.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His hair was pulled into another kiss.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Somewhere along the way, a cord snapped, and anything soft from before showed it true colors, like the house had an affect on. They turned desperate and starved and miserable, everything mixing together into a fierce passion, his strokes only hitting her when they came in </span>
  <em>
    <span>hard</span>
  </em>
  <span>, his only groans as they both felt it. Such a need was demanding and they chased its satisfaction. The works of rolling into each other together, free arms seeking the comfort in holding, sweat being kissed and licked away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His speed built as much as their breath. There was a tingling inside her, one that he reached with every small or long stroke, not going away once he brushed that part inside of her but instead growing into a strong sense of pleasure. Their hands connected, his arm positioning her hips to  a new and delicious angle, their tongues toying and wrapping in each other as a distraction for their mouths.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That tingling in her had since blossomed into the heat she oh-so loved to feel when she was with him. It was being relieved only slowly - and more than anything did she want it to be made quicker, as much as she wanted to stay in this room with him forever.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Daenerys gave one last meeting of their hips before she anchored herself, distracting his with a kiss, and flipping him to the mattress. Not for long did she let him stay there - Daenerys made him sit up with her. She wanted no different feeling than the press of their bodies.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His eye reflected hers in that it was wide and hooded with lust. He took no moment to settle in this new position - only leveled their still intertwined hands next to him for leverage and guiding her through the very few of his thrusts until she got the hang of taking control of the rhythm, lifting her body up and down slightly and more so than capturing his cock in her heat every time she shifted forward. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The new angle sat different in her, reaching a new part of her, and the friction of the front of them hit her clit </span>
  <em>
    <span>just right</span>
  </em>
  <span> to tighten her core and pinch her brows. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Daenerys arched into the feeling. Jon leveled in it, once again pulling her closer, wrapping his arm around the back of her ribs and grasping her opposite shoulder. He took the chance to lap down her exposed neck, continuing across her collar bones, to finally her breasts, giving each the attention she leaned into before Daenerys collapsed back forward, holding their faces close as her orgasm approached.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His just as so, and so they turned and fell back against the bed while giving into releasing their hands to climb up the hill of it, her fingers raking his back and his own dancing around her breasts before heading towards her clit. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It didn't take long then until the start of a moan broke off in a gasp of his name, a broken, twisted </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh</span>
  </em>
  <span> clouding her bruised lips and features. His lips captured it, swallowing it, her tightening walls giving him exactly what he needed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They both broke off as he pulled out of her heat to release in between them, giving her shoulder a small nip as such pleasure washed over him. Her arms and hands ran fully up and down his back, letting him know that collapsing onto her was okay, so he did just that and turned his face to give her neck a continuous open mouthed kiss.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They laid like that. Their sweat worked like glue and breaths evened together, the haze of the world around them anything but until morning came.</span>
</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The stress of the day had gotten the better of them, though, and both of them found themselves drifting in and out of sleep for hours. It wasn't until the clock read 4 that they finally gave up, separating from their close position they had taken under the covers to look at each other’s faces fully.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Their cheeks had faded from the flushness, but their bruised lips had done anything but. Daenerys flicked her eyes there before meeting his.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wore an expression, not unlike she had seen before, but somehow different, within them. Eyes incredibly soft; bored, almost, in the way they drooped, although the look in them said something else.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She marveled at it. No one had ever quite looked at her like that. And she knew she was getting that countenance on her, that wide eyes, parted lips one, and watched him start to smile at it. She bit back her own and fell to her back, eyes searching the ceiling.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jon shifted. The warm press of his lips met her shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where does your nickname come from?” He kissed her once more. “Dany.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t a way of pushing her, but rather tasting it again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My brother,” she explained. “He could never pronounce it when we were younger. And with the length of it, when he got older, it just stuck.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Even now?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She almost laughed at the irony. “Hm. Well, not exactly. Until he passed in the fire I was accused of.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jon pulled away slightly, waiting for her. She sneaked a look at him. He wasn't looking for any trouble. Just to talk.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Daenerys sighed, in the back of her mind, screams surfaced, the rattling of locked or heated doors echoing down the hall she ran through. “I was in an arranged engagement that he set up. Our house caught fire when we were both inside, and I got out, but he didn't. No one knows who caused it, so for the beginning, they all just assumed me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Was it you?” he teased it. She shrugged.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know. I want to say I'm not capable, but with events leading up to that one, I don't know if I'd be lying. All I know is that he called for help, and I may have been able to, but I found myself outside before actually deciding.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She looked at him - searched his expression for any type of regret. There was nothing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Events.” It was stated as a question. Sighing, Daenerys relayed to the ceiling.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My brother and I - our lives were never easy. We were all each other had for a while. He had to mature quickly and failed to do that. I should’ve…” She shook her head and swallowed. “He was my whole life. I came to think I couldn't live without him.” She caught Jon’s eyes. “But that didn’t mean he made my life fair. At least that's what i tell myself, in case I...in case I did do it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You forget my accusation,” he told her. She gave a slight shake of her head. She didn’t forget anyone’s. Jon sighed, pulling fully away - maybe in case she would not want to touch him afterwards.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was part of the Night’s Watch… before. My group was planning to kill a whole village of Wildlings. The villagers didn't do anything - it just because we had the guns and some morals they didn't share. So when they went to go fire upon them, I stayed at the back and shot my men from behind instead.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He said it calmly. His eyes were anywhere but on her, recounting horrors of his past.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And you weren’t arrested for it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shook his head. “I was the Lord Commander at the time. I lost the title. which I was fine with - I wouldn't  want to keep it if I went through with a massacre, no matter who it was.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This time, it was her turn to kiss his shoulder. His skin tightened under her lips.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve been thinking, recently.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hm?” she nuzzled her nose to his shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This house. The accusations. The poem. It’s all…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sick?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well. I would agree to that. But...I don’t know. The isolation of it, the riddles, the guilt we are all being forced to relay...I can almost assume that we are already dead. That this is purgatory, and we are supposed to decide if the things we’ve done are to be forgiven. But it's nothing but a trick - this place...it's only for us to drown in our guilt as much as we would drown in the ocean surrounding us.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Daenerys spanned a reassuring hand down his stomach. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re a good man. Know that. This house, this killer...their only goal is to torture.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I will, if you are here to remind me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She pulled away to look in his eyes. “You are to keep me close, then. Get us away from here. Like you promised.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I still do,” he said, leaning in to kiss her again. It was easy and savory. “I will.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A door slammed in the hall. Their lips disconnected - their foreheads and eyes did not. There were footsteps down the hall, and then pounding on a door - too far to the right to be Jon’s, so they stayed and listened.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Baelish</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” Jorah's voice was muffled from beyond the wall. He pounded again. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Baelish, open up</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jon’s hand found her cheek. his thumb ran against her jaw.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They listened for a response. Nothing but footsteps came, passing Daenerys’s door again. More pounding. Unmistakably, this time it was jons door. He jumped from the bed and grabbed his shirt and pants, pulling them over as fast as he could -</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Jon! Hey, Jon!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pants had to do. He buttoned them just enough to stay up, opening the door before pulling his shirt over his head. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>What</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Jorah. What is wrong?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jorah turned to him, quite nearly jumping out of his skin. “Baelish. Hes - I put it all through my head. He's the killer. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>must </span>
  </em>
  <span>be. I left my room to tell you, and - and I saw someone, disappear down the hall. And Baelish, he's not in his room.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s he going to do, do you think?” Jon buttoned up the last few buttons of his shirt and looked down the hall. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jorah shook his head. “I don’t know. We’re all in our rooms. Well - right? Is..is Daenerys -”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Daenerys is fine. Maybe he's doing something with breakfast. Wait here. My revolver was returned back to my room, I saw it before.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thankfully, he had his belt in Daenerys’s room still so he had a reason to go back in. In three strides, he reached the bed, taking Daenerys’s nervous face into his hands. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Listen to me, Dany. When I leave, you lock that door and get dressed. You do not leave. Alright? You do not leave this room, Dany. I’m going to finish this and I'm going to get us off this god forsaken island.” He gave her a quick shake. “Do you hear me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She nodded. Before he could pull away, her hands latched to his neck, pulling him down into a kiss. It was messy, but it was the most important among the others they had shared. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His figure was walking across the room before she registered the loss of him on her lips. Daenerys’s heart clenched with the combined feeling.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And then the door closed. And he was gone.</span>
</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Daenerys stared at the poem above her bed. It’s context painted as a eulogy. She wanted nothing more than...</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She didn’t know what she wanted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Daenerys read the poem over and over again, until she could recite it without looking. Her heart hurt every time she got to the bottom.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Four little warrior boys going out to sea; A red herring swallowed one and then there were Three.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Three little warrior boys walking in the Zoo; A big bear hugged one and then there were Two.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Two little warrior boys sitting in the sun; One got frizzled up and then there was One</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>One little warrior boy left all alone; He went and hanged himself </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>And then there were None.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Her eyes could not escape it. Her mind played like a record, like the Swan Song record, played the whole poem, and then again the four last lines, and then the one that was next. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Four little warrior boys going out to sea; A red herring swallowed one and then there were Three.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She read it again. And again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Red herring.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A - a distraction. A trick.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jon and Jorah were heading to their deaths.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At first, she only took over with anxiety. She didn’t know what - </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Distantly, glass broke. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was out the door before thinking through the fact that she might very well be heading to hers, too.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>were in the home stretch now. thank you so much for all your theories and thoughts every chapter. i hope this one satisfies your shipper hearts and maybe brews some more theories!</p>
<p>i havent yet to decide whether i want to split the final chapter gain. either way, we will be down updating by the end of the month:)</p>
<p> </p>
<p><b>Cast/Status of Characters:</b><br/>Mr. And Mrs. Raven - Hosts<br/>Petyr Baelish - Doctor/Guest<br/><s>Olenna Tyrell - Guest</s><br/>Jorah Mormont - Guest<br/>Daenerys Targaryen - Mrs. Raven's secretary<br/>Jon Stark - Guest<br/><s>Joffrey Baratheon - Guest<br/>Barristan Selmy - Guest<br/>Samwell Tarly - Hired Cook/Staff<br/>Gilly Tarly - Hired Cook/Staff<br/>Varys Hill - Guest</s><br/></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. the blood you bleed is just the blood you owe</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>so sorry for such a long wait. i honestly fell into a dark spot and forgot i hadnt posted the last chapter haha. it was all written, i just couldnt find this will power to post it. soo uh...merry christmas??? to anyone who celebrates it lol. welp, enjoy this last chapter, it was fun to write:)</p><p>please mind the story tags, especially in this chapter. extreme references to gore, MCD, and suicidal actions.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>                                                                                     </p><p> </p><p>The house felt suffocated, now, with  Daenerys  running down the halls not knowing what was beyond every corner. Any sign Jon and Jorah were in the house was indistinct, and so she kept her feet quiet, careful to hear for the sound of someone else's steps. </p><p>The window in the dining room was the one that broke.  Daenerys  ran to it, to see the cause -  beneath it was a figure. She turned back around as if someone was behind her, checking the table - three left.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Four little warrior boys going out to sea; A red herring swallowed one and then there were Three. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Red herring. Red herring. </em>
</p><p>Baelish was trying to make it look like he was dead. That was it, certainly - he was on this island, and Jon and Jorah were together, and she was supposed to be in her room. He was pretending to be dead. Just so… just so…</p><p>She ran out the front door, thankful she had chosen to put shoes on, and further away from the front of the house. She needed to see it in full. If there was any candles, or movement, or -</p><p>“ Dany !”</p><p>Coming out of the garden was two figures - just by the way he stood she knew it was Jon, never mind the nickname.  Daenerys  let him jog to her, revolver loose at his side and the other hand pulling her head into his chest In a quick, reassuring embrace.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” she said instantly. “But Jon, the next line of the poem -”</p><p>“Give me the revolver, Jon!” They turned to Jorah’s sudden explosion. His face was red in menace. “ Daenerys , get away from him. He - he killed Baelish.”</p><p>“What?!”</p><p>“We separated! For a few minutes, we separated - and next thing I know the figure crashed through the window. It was <em> you </em> . You killed him, with that <em> bloody </em>shot -”</p><p>Jon stepped away from  Daenerys , ripples of fury tensing his back. Not following Jorah's command - but only facing the man fully.</p><p>“And did you hear it? The <em> bloody shot </em>, as you say, did you hear it?”</p><p>“You could have covered it with the shatter. Very easily, you could've -”</p><p>“You were alone, too. How could I know it wasn't you? That you -”</p><p>
  <em> Red herring. Red herring. Red herring. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I'm going to get us out of here. </em>
</p><p>“<em> STOP </em> !”  Daenerys  stepped between them both. “The poem. It says it distinctly; ‘ <em> Four little warrior boys going out to sea; A red herring swallowed one and then there were Three.’ </em> Don’t you see? It was <em> all </em>Baelish. He is still alive, and still on this island. This is exactly what he wants. He wants us to think differently and accuse someone that isn't him.”</p><p>Both men were quiet besides steadying breaths.</p><p>“Now let's - lets either find a body, or try signaling to land, I guess. There's three of us and one of him. Jon keeps the revolver, and we’re safe.”</p><p>“<em> I’ll </em> keep the revolver.” Jorah stepped forward, holding his hand out to Jon. Jon didn't move.</p><p>Daenerys  sighed. “I’ll take it, if you're that adamant.”</p><p>She turned to face Jon, giving him an apologetic look. It just seemed that Jorah wasn’t going to take Jon’s possession of it.</p><p>He didn't hesitate, though, placing the weight of it in her palm.  Daenerys  tucked it into the waistband of her skirt.</p><p>“Okay. Let's go.”</p><p> </p><p>They headed back to the house, back into the garden, since that's where they had halted their search before. They very well did not see any sort of safety in the house at this point. Still,  Daenerys  peered through the windows at a distance. But all she could see were unlighted rooms against the dawn.</p><p>Jon took the lead.  Daenerys  was behind him, and Jorah at the back.</p><p>“What's the next line of the poem?”</p><p>There was barely a moment that she wasn’t reading the poem in her room as she waited - she knew it by heart, and so she recited it.</p><p>“Assuming Baelish’s false lead counted, its <em> ‘Three little warrior boys walking in the Zoo; A big bear hugged one and then there were Two. </em>’”</p><p>“Walking through a zoo? Not something you can mock on a barren island, I don't think.”</p><p>“It's probably mocking us,” Daenreys muttered. “We’ll turn into maddened animals and kill each other.”</p><p>They reached the back side of the house. Jon peeked over the corner and gave an all clear. </p><p>Like the other times, Jon walked five seconds forward before  Daenerys  was to do so. The action repeated for jorah’s turn. </p><p>He disappeared around the corner. <em> One, two, three, four - </em></p><p>A soft - rumbling sound. A grinding.  Daenerys  looked over her shoulder, hand on gun right as she stepped around the corner - </p><p>Just in time to see a flash of stone fall from a top floor and onto Jorah, crushing him.</p><p>She rightfully screamed, blinded, stumbling back and falling to the ground. </p><p>“ Dany , what the - <em> shit </em>.”</p><p>Just like that, all went numb, like the stone had hit a button that just let pure adrenaline and instinct into their veins.</p><p>Jon’s hands grabbed her elbows, pulling her back to her feet and pushing her forward. They ran through the garden - the brief sight of Jorah’s pooling blood gagging her senses - and across the field for a long length, stopping only a few feet from the cliff overlooking the ocean.</p><p>Daenerys  leaned over her knees, catching her breath through a raw, chill shredded throat. “We - we have to find - we have to <em> find him </em>. We have to find that bastard.”</p><p>“No... no, we shouldn't. We shouldn't go where there's any closed spaces. Anywhere for him to hide, or…” Jon knotted his fingers through his hair. “We should go to the beach. There's only a few rocks, and we have the revolver. There's nothing he can...well be fine.”</p><p>She thought very hard for a second. “The beach. The docks. What day is it? Is it the fourth day?” With a quick calculation, she nodded to herself. “Yeah. yeah, lets - the boat comes at eleven. Lets - lets go to the beach.”</p><p>They had run to the other side of the island, so it was a long and quiet walk back to the opposite side. The morning sun rose and heated their skin. Jon undid his top two buttons of his shirt.</p><p>By the time one of the paths down to the beach arrived in their sight, the sun had risen a bit in the sky, reminding them how long the night really was. How there really was no difference between night and day at this point; just surviving in darkness or light.</p><p>Her feet hurt from walking so much. She removed her shoes once she reached the sand, hoping she didn't have any blisters, and relinquished the feeling of it. </p><p>The last time she had been on this beach was with Barristan. He knew, somehow, what was going to happen to them then. He had said no one was coming for them.</p><p>Looking at Jon, the two of them living through it all...it was becoming hard to believe. </p><p>All that needed to happen was for the boat to come. Once they were on it, they'd be safe - there would be legal issues of course, but with Baelish still somewhere too, a confession could easily be taken, as well as fingerprints maybe.</p><p>They walked to try to find an open place. They came near to the rock; the one Barristan has died on. She knew because some blood had still stained it.</p><p>For some reason, maybe it be her falling into her own theory of animalism,  Daenerys  walked over to the rock. To inspect it, maybe.</p><p>It was days old, of course - the colour of copper at that fact. No one would be able to suspect it. Not when they didnt know what happened.</p><p>She circled the rock. Did Barristan know he was going to die here? did he continue to face the sea, or did he turn towards his killer to face his? Did baelish like to look at the faces before killing them?</p><p>Daenerys  came across some shoes just behind her view of the rock. Curious, she stepped closer, only to see them attached the pants, and a shirt and - oh.</p><p>“...Jon?”</p><p>Jon appeared at her side, looking over the body of Baelish, drowned and floating in shallow waves.</p><p>“What the hell?”</p><p>Daenerys  swallowed. She rubbed her forehead, quickly overheating all of the sudden.</p><p>“He must’ve fallen from the cliff, or -”</p><p>“We need to move him.”</p><p>Jon turned to her. “What?”</p><p>She shook her head. “We've done it with all the others. We can't just - we can't just <em> leave him - </em>”</p><p>“Like hell we can't! He murdered seven people. He has no justice or - or <em> respect -” </em></p><p>Daenerys  was turning hot by the minute. “The boat is going to come and see him, and then turn right back around. We will never get off this island. We have to move him.”</p><p>Jon looked at her, helpless and crazed and bewildered, giving in with a curse and pulling the body to land. </p><p>“I don't get what he was planning,” he thought out loud.  Daenerys  listened, a lump in her throat, the body of who they thought was the killer right in front of them. “Kill all these people, and leave two to tell the tale? Torturing our last days of our lives with mistakes we've made - and for what? Sadistic fuck.”</p><p>The revolver weighed against her hip.</p><p>Daenerys  watched him. It seemed that he forgot to care, forgot to put on his charming personality- he was sharp, and scattered, and...well, animalistic. His back faced her as he moved Baelish the last bit under the rocks, and somewhere in her brain, she hotwired into the decision.</p><p>The weight of the revolver transferred to the hand.</p><p>Jon heard the clicks of it, whipping around to face her. She ignored his eyes flashing.</p><p>“ Dany , what -”</p><p>“- Don't <em> call </em> me that!” she readjusted her grip and back away from the little alcove they were in. the sun hit her back. “You - you did it. Youre the murderer. <em> Youre </em> Mr. Raven.”</p><p>“I’m not! You told me you didn't suspect me, and you were <em> right </em>! I promise you!”</p><p>There it was again. His promises. <em> Tell yourself, </em> Her brain whispered. <em> Is loving him the promise of death or paradise? </em></p><p>“Yes, I didn’t suspect you! And why was that?! Because we are the only two left, and I know for a <em> fact </em> that I didn't kill anyone. So tell me, jon. Was it all just a fool’s crusade? Had you - was this all a lie I had fallen for, just so your last kill would be sweeter than the rest?!”</p><p>“<em> Listen </em>to yourself,  Dany ! This whole time you were by my side. You've seen everything I saw, you’ve  -”</p><p>“I haven't, and <em> you </em> know it. You were downstairs before me before Samwell was found. You - were nowhere near beside me for Barristans, or Gilly’s, or - <em> Seven Hells! </em> ” she brought her hands to each side of her head, the metal of the revolver painfully digging into it.  The headache of her realization made her forget, not realize, ignore it. “You carried around a <em> gun! </em> You’ve already killed twenty something people, what's another nine! Was it obvious to everyone?! Was that... <em> Gods, </em>what was i…” she hated how tears welled in her eyes. She hated how she was choking up, that she was upset about understanding it all, how deep down she had always prayed it was not him. Never him.</p><p>“I was hired here,  Dany .” He tried to act calmly, hoping it would reflect on her. “Just as much as you. I had been recruited for a security issue, for a suspect to track down. I had only had the gun for my job in the first place. I carried it when it was clear things were dangerous.” Jon attempted to take a step forward. Tentatively. Talk her out of the state of shock that was overwhelming her. “I hear the shots everyday. Every night, I hear those shots from that gun that I fired.”</p><p>Daenerys  resisted. She raised the revolver again, furiously “No! I've been fooled by you once. And I learn from my mistakes. I was just a ploy - We were never on the same side. I'm - I'm <em> not </em>going to be fooled twice.”</p><p>She squeezed her eyes shut. She couldn’t look at him. Not now, not anymore, not with a gun pointed at him and the pictures and images of him above the bodies in her mind -</p><p>“You're not!  Dany , please. Listen to me. Listen to <em> yourself </em> . Please, we’ve been a pair this whole time. We’ve <em> trusted </em>each other this whole time!”</p><p>Daenerys  pulled the trigger.</p><p>The shot echoed through her whole body, ringing in her ears, and she tasted blood in her mouth. </p><p>She dropped the gun and started to run away before even hearing it all fully. She saw none of it- not until she tripped onto her knees did she open them, and only used them to know where she was going.</p><p>She didn't know where she was going. She just knew she couldn't hear or watch him die.</p><p>So much running. Instead, she trudged through the grass, exhausted. Her shoes were on the beach, probably amidst his pooling blood, his - <em> gods </em>.</p><p>She shot someone. She shot <em> Jon </em> - she - she probably killed him. She was no better than him.</p><p>The house came into view. She pictured it on fire.</p><p>So much guilt had clouded her mind. For months, now. The <em> what ifs </em> , the I <em> shouldve </em>, the doubts of herself. Of her morality, of her right and wrong, of where she would go when she died.</p><p>She tried telling herself that her brother had gone to hell. That not helping him - it was good. It was right. </p><p>And yet, his screams were too loud in her mind to think most times. </p><p>
  <em> I hear the shots everyday. Every night, I hear those shots from that gun that I fired. </em>
</p><p>Somewhere faraway, the awareness of danger came over her as she approached the house. The thought that the house was where the murderer was.</p><p> Daenerys  continued inside.</p><p>She felt a ghost of Jon's arms around her. That echoing through returned to her mind: <em> Is he the promise of death or paradise? </em></p><p>How foolish she was, to believe the latter. When was paradise ever an option in her prophecies? From the first murder, she shouldve made it known to herself that she would leave this island alone. From his first smile, from his first words.</p><p>Alone. She always ended up alone.</p><p>She drifted to her room. The remnants of the night - the broken glass, strewn curtains…</p><p>And a noose, hanging from the peculiar hook in the far end of her room.</p><p>It was high enough off the ground. She noticed that now.</p><p>The last figure sat on the chair underneath it.</p><p><em> That's not possible, </em>   Daenerys  thought. <em> I'm the only one left. </em></p><p>She walked over to her vanity mirror. She stared at the face looking back at her, trying to recognize it. The sunken eyes,  bruised lips, windswept, matted hair. Her eyes unfocused. And when they came back, they were in the face of her brother.</p><p>His hair was gone. Singed away. Half his face was red and melting, and his opposite shoulder was a mess of blood.</p><p> Daenerys  had done this. She left him in that house. She knew that now. </p><p>And suddenly, her chest hurt - this wasn't possible. She was the only one left on this island.</p><p>No one was there to tie that noose. Her brother was dead - it wasn’t possible for him to be there with her.</p><p>Unless she had died on that beach. Unless Jon had somehow taken the gun and shot her, and that this was purgatory.  She was to decide what she deserved. </p><p>Because, in the end, her death - the blood that would halt its flow - it was just the blood she owed to others.</p><p>She looked into the eyes of her brother once more. His death and the cause of it - what she should have done, it would never leave her. She would always have to bear the weight of it. It was already too much.</p><p>The noose hung beyond her shoulder in the mirror. She faced it. </p><p>She climbed onto the chair. It was at a perfect height for  her to watch the door through the loop. Her eyes found the poem above her bed.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> One little warrior boy left all alone; He went and hanged himself  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And then there were None. </em>
</p><p> </p><p> She put it around her neck. Stepped to the edge. Tightened it - just to test it, to see…</p><p>The door knob twisted. Her stinging, tired eyes halted on the movement, stopping her in the track. Now, for sure she knew, she <em> was </em> in purgatory. Because no one else was -</p><p>Varys walked into the room.</p><p>
  <em> - Not...that's not possible. </em>
</p><p>“Miss Targaryen. I was never so pleased with our last conversation. But I never feared, really, because something told me you would be the one.”</p><p>“This...this isn’t real. I'm dead. You're dead.”</p><p>“We are very far from that state, miss.” He sat on the edge of the writing table. “Nothing like some Lamb’s guts that couldn't pass.”</p><p>It clicked in her head. The lack of gunshot. The misplacement of the lamb. He had never actually been shot.</p><p>“The others, too? Was...was this whole a trick? A sick game?” <em> Did I just shoot Jon dead for nothing? </em></p><p>Varys chuckled. He pulled out a piece of paper, thick and important, and laid it on the table next to him.</p><p>“You see, Miss Targaryen, I have seen many guilty people walk free of their crimes in my area of work. A judge can sentence someone, but only with the evidence.” her head was getting airy. The rope was cutting into her neck and windpipe. “”So in my retired stage and terminal death pending, I had decided to make things balanced. Take the crimes those guilty thought they got away with, and give them their proper justification.”</p><p>The answer was yes. She had. She killed Jon to protect herself and then walked right into the murderer’s den.</p><p>“You’re -” she gasped, through terror and shortness of air. “You’re sick.”</p><p>“Not any more than the rest of you.”</p><p>It appeared to her then that she could get out of this alive. Sure, she was an inch from asphyxiation, but an inch away from relief, too. To step forward or back.</p><p>“And what will you do when I'm dead, them? Leave this place ad get arrested?” </p><p>He raised a glass. She almost laughed. “Ah, no, I'm sorry. Die in this place with the rest of us, leaving an unsolved mystery for all to wonder about through time.”</p><p>“That's what this paper here is for, Miss Targaryen. I would like to go out with something big; and this in itself is enough for me. My confession is written clear as day. Now I will drink this, and you will step off that chair, and we will both die.”</p><p>“I don't see the point in that. I won your game. And I am guilty of no crime. Its just plain murder.”</p><p>Varys downed his drink. </p><p>Daenerys  watched him in newfound horror. He stood, clearing his throat. He started to circle her.</p><p>“<em> Ten little warrior boys went out to dine; One choked his little self and then there were Nine. </em></p><p>
  <em> “ Nine little warrior boys sat up very late; One overslept himself and then there were Eight. Eight little warrior boys traveling in Devon;  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “One said he'd stay there and then there were Seven. Seven little warrior boys chopping up sticks;  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “One chopped himself in halves and then there were Six. Six little warrior boys playing with a hive; A bumblebee stung one and then there were Five.  </em>
</p><p><em> “Five little warrior boys going in for law; One got into chancery and then there were Four. </em> ” he paused then, staring up at her. He put his foot at the leg of the chair, taunting her. <em> No, </em> her mind bursted into the word; I <em> - I don’t - I dont want to. </em> Varys couldn't hear her, though. Not like he cared. <em> “Four little warrior boys going out to sea; A red herring swallowed one and then there were Three.  </em></p><p><em> “Three little warrior boys walking in the Zoo; A big bear hugged one and then there were Two. Two little warrior boys sitting in the sun; One got frizzled up and then there was One. </em>” </p><p>he took one last breath. “<em> One little warrior boy left all alone; He went and hanged himself -” </em> her feet scrambled as the chair moved from under her. “ <em> And then there were -” </em></p><p>Just as the rope tightened completely, the suffocating sensation bursting through her veins, the door slammed open.  Daenerys ’s eyes flicked up.</p><p>For the several most times that day, she thought she was dreaming.</p><p>Jon stood in the doorway; unharmed, eyes hot, revolver in hand and pointed at varys.</p><p>“Don’t - Don’t shoot!” she gasped out. He had taken poison. He was going to die anyway.</p><p>Jon’s focus snapped to her. Without another blink, he was in front of her and holding her up by her legs to take the pressure off her neck.</p><p>He moved the chair back under her, too. Beyond them, Varys started to gasp.  Daenerys  closed her eyes. She was sick of death.</p><p>“Its safe,” Jon said softly after a few seconds going into silence. The heat of him fell behind her upon the chair. His arm wrapped around her ribs, and he removed the noose from her neck, prepared for her to fall back into him. He guided them back to the floor - away from both the noose and the cooling corpse.</p><p> Daenerys  sobbed. She let herself cry after all this time, of all this trauma - and Jon clung to her, holding her to him.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” she rasped. “I’m - I regretted it as soon as I did it. It got me so out of my mind I thought I had died.”</p><p>“It's over now. Don’t talk.”</p><p>She pulled away from him. To stare at him - <em> alive </em>. They both were. The murderer was dead, and they were not. </p><p>She moved slightly forward. Halfway - asking permission if she would have it. She <em> shot </em> him. She tried to...she tried to kill him.</p><p>“How - how are you…”</p><p>Surprisingly, Jon grinned. “Try not to close your eyes next time you shoot a gun intending to hit a target.”</p><p> Daenerys  stared at him in disbelief. “We’re okay,  Jon. He - Varys wrote a confession. We’re free.”</p><p>He kissed her.</p><p>She sighed into it, holding his face. Grateful he was so forgiving. Grateful for his strength, and hers. Their trust even if tainted. The understanding, the adherence, the blinding urge to stay with one another through any trial.</p>
<hr/><p>They grabbed the note and walked down to the beach. His hand clutched her. Away from the house that was full of death - almost including their own.</p><p>This time, they sat on the docks. Plainly waiting for home. She sat on the edge, toes skimming the water, and Jon sitting behind her with his arms encompassing her whole being. It was calm, it was safe, despite everything behind their shoulders and the rocks and the beds.</p><p>They read the confession - the ticket out for them. It would do. </p><p>The sun eventually rose above their heads. A little away, a boat appeared, and a new wave of lightness blossomed in her chest.</p><p><em> Survived </em>.</p><p>Ten people went to an island on a day not that late in November. Eight did not live to see the journey back. </p><p>
  <em> Not them. </em>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>thank you if you stuck with me! hopefully you read til the end of this chapter haha, if it were me i wouldve skurted outta here as soon as the gun went off. anyway, happy holidays and end of 2020! cant wait to share my next remix:)</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p><b>Cast/Status of Characters:(will be updated each chapter)</b><br/>Mr. And Mrs. Raven - Hosts<br/>Petyr Baelish - Doctor/Guest<br/>Olenna Tyrell - Guest<br/>Jorah Mormont - Guest<br/>Daenerys Targaryen - Mrs. Raven's secretary<br/>Jon Stark - Guest<br/>Joffrey Baratheon - Guest<br/>Barristan Selmy - Guest<br/>Samwell Tarly - Hired Cook/Staff<br/>Gilly Tarly - Hired Cook/Staff<br/>Varys Hill - Guest</p><p>this fic has been pre written and will probably be updated bi-weekly:)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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